


For a Time and without Reason

by pantomimicry



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Drama, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Friendship, Minor Violence, Triumvirate, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-01-08 04:48:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 35,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1128517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pantomimicry/pseuds/pantomimicry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Leonard's irritation and irrationality never got him anywhere but within the Vulcan's embrace. When Spock appeared in his office the next morning he wasn't surprised. They were so damned predictable right down to Spock's raised eyebrow and McCoy's quick-temper." </p><p>Slash. Spock/McCoy. Character based. A compilation of ordinary moments between Spock and McCoy as they make their way into a relationship that is no less contentious or rough and tumble, fly by the seat of your pants,  than before they were having sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. This is a character study so please do not expect overwhelming action. Not everything lines up word for word with TOS canon and, although I do apologize if you're dissatisfied, this is my warning. Please don't PM or comment with grievances regarding canon. I do try my best to strictly adhere to characterization. Format: Each chapter has two sections, present and past (will always be italicized), respectively. I'm told it's not confusing and I have strong stylistic objections to overt labeling in stories. 
> 
> To Tyler: "Keep your whiny ass doctor."

There was always some planet and heaven forbid things should ever go according to plan. Jim and Spock were miracle workers but he was the one who pulled glass from angry gashes, and watched blood stain his biobeds.

Planet  _whatsit_  pushed him over the edge. There was a mix up; he was beamed fifty km from the away team and lord knows he had kept calm.

It was the second day before he started seeing shadows, the sulphur thick and heavy in his lungs. Hell of a lucky streak he was on, landing a few kilometers off from an active volcano.

The fourth day: it was cold and hot and cold again. He choices were either a smooth flat rock to stay cool or a wrapping up tight in his emergency kit blanket. He was hopeless and being a Doctor didn't help either.

 _Whatthefuckeveritwascalled_ was a furnace. He was dry as a bone-pun intended-;there wasn't any fluid left in him to sweat.  He could feel his own hysteria trying to breakthrough, and still he worried.

He hoped to God wherever the rest of them landed it was cool or at least shaded. If he ever got out of this he was going to kill every last science officer he could lay hands on. Who was in charge of research for this mess of a mission?

On the fifth day something ice cold touched him; the sun was brilliant and he had given up breathing normally. He leaned into the touh and he would swear that he heard a sizzle. His cheeks and forehead were stroked, the cold spreading and then resting on the side of his neck. Heaven he thought immediately. This was heaven.

"Doctor." His eyes shot wide, his baby blues glazed with confusion.

"Well, shit, Spock. You damn well better not be God."

 

When McCoy came to again he smelled antiseptic and heard the familiar beep of a biobed. His body was bare except for boxers. He wiggled to confirm his limbs were intact.  _At least I'm alive._

"Jesus, Bones, don't do shit like that."

He saw Jim's face, young and waxy in his concern. The kid looked like hell and he said as much. Jim laughed a high nervous sound that hurt McCoy's heart. He was always surprised when anyone, but especially Jim, looked at him like that, with actual affection. He reached out patting his cheek lightly. " I'm not dead yet. And damn you're freezing." He tried to sit up, reaching for a tricorder.

"Doctor, you must remain still."

He felt lethargic and it took an eternity for him to swing his head around to look at the Vulcan. "What are you on about?"

Spock leaned more fully over him; eyebrows drawn down in almost worry. "When's the last time you slept? Damn it man, even Vulcans actually require rest."

Spock met his eyes briefly, speaking as if he were never interrupted. "Your body was attempting to operate under conditions nonopti-"

"For the love of God, Spock I'm a doctor. Speak plainly." He had meant his voice to sound gruff, strong, but it was rough with sleep and pain.

"You are recovering very well." Damn robot must have been reading his mind. "You were alone on the planet's equatorial region for five days, four hours and sixteen minutes before I was able to boost the transponder signal. We used Akai's orbiting satellites to pinpoint your location. You were severely dehydrated, confused and continually lapsing in and out of consciousness. Your-"

"Christ, I get it. Get me some water, Jim, would ya."

"You asked me to speak plainly, Doctor."

Leonard glared over the top of his glass. The cup was filled twice before he felt ready to speak. "How bad was it?"

"Spock says you had a fever of well over a hundred when he found you."

"I believe I said his internal temperature was approaching one hundred and three degrees."

McCoy grunted, the closest he could get to a laugh. He still felt like his body was burning from the inside out. He would never again complain about a Georgia summer.

"You should rest, Doctor." And yeah, he was already fading but he could hear something nearly catch in the hobgoblin's voice. If he hadn't been looking right at him he may not have believed it. Hell, he was here and he still didn't believe it.

"Turn the damn heat down on your way out too." Cool fingers settled on his wrist and he turned his hand trying to get more of that fantastic coldness.

"Captain, his temperature is still sufficiently hig-"

He was so hot that Spock felt cold. Hell, the robot was good for something. He made a needy sound when a hand brushed his shoulder, rough and far less slender than the one on his wrist.

"You're okay, Bones," and damn if Jim wasn't asking instead of telling him.

"Yeah," he said, forcing his eyes open for a brief moment. "Get out of here. Get some sleep."

Jim gave him this look, like he knew everything was falling apart but he couldn't fix it. He knew that look and it shattered him every time. But he wasn't dying so Jim could make do for a hot minute. He kept his eyes open until the Captain disappeared through the medbay doors.

"You need something else," he snapped, his eyes closing heavily.

"No, Doctor. I shall leave you now. Sleep well." As soon as Spock's hand wasn't on his arm he realized that it had been there the whole time he was placating Jim. Even half dead as he was that surprised him.

"Spock," his voice was rusty, but he made the effort to loll his head towards the tall man.

"Yes-"

McCoy interrupted, "I guess I should thank you."

"It is not neces-"

"Oh, just get out then." There wasn't any venom in his voice. Where he came from you damn well said thank you when someone saved your life. Necessary or not, thank you very much.

Spock stood at the doors, the harsh light streaming in behind him. He tried to work up his best glare but he knew it was a poor imitation. When Spock spoke his voice was even, perfectly suited to the pointy eared bastard he knew. And it was also edged in genuine kindness. "I regret having upset you before we beamed to the surface."

 

* * *

 

 

" _Bride to McCoy."_

_He looked up sharply, directing his scold at the blinking comm. Lord knew he was busy enough without being summoned around like a damn lapdog. "What do you need, Jim?" He let the impatience bleed into his tone, letting his southern roots show._

" _Why so glum Doc? We're going planet side. Transporter Room 3 in five. Kirk out."_

" _That would be why," he snapped even as he gathered tricorders, and hypos to shove into his kit._

 _It flitted briefly through his mind that he could have sent someone else. He was CMO damnit and if it was his prerogative to watch over_ _his_ _sickbay then Jim Kirk could deal. But Jim was trouble and if the kid so much as scratched an arm he felt like a failure. Someone else wouldn't insist he rest and eat something. Someone else would never tell that green blooded computer to pipe down and '_ _**just take the damn hypo** _ _'._

_The doors swished open and Spock was at the controls. Tall and focused like his next move would save the world. Knowing him, he probably was saving the world, maybe even the whole blasted universe._

" _You are ready, Doctor?"_

" _No, pointy ears, I'm standing here admiring your technique." He rolled his eyes and scrubbed a hand over his face. He was never going to like getting his atoms scrambled. Efficient his ass, he died each time. He didn't think it was quite his time yet. "What rock are we landing on this time?"_

" _You are referring to Akai?"_

" _No. What's that other big thing we're hovering above?"_

_Spock raised an eyebrow, continuing, "Akai is a plain dominated planet. Its surface temperatures are similar to those of Vulcan. It has two major salt water bodies."_

" _So, it's a sandy rock?"_

" _There is very little sand, Doctor. Akai is primarily shroud in volcanic ash and basalt rocks."_

" _My mistake. It's Dante's Inferno." He shook his head lightly, almost laughing._

" _You were making a joke?"_

" _No, Spock, that time I was being completely serious. I want to know how Starfleet picks these places. Don't answer," he said quickly. "I don't think I can take a seventy page dissertation on Starfleet motivations."_

" _As you wish."_

" _As I wish? Pointy ears, if things went according to my wishes I'd be on a big wide porch in Georgia sipping ice tea." He frowned, his blue eyes clouding for a moment. "No, maybe some amused deity up there," he pointed up, "but certainly not my wishes."_

 _He cut his eyes to the Vulcan. His head was cocked to the side and for a second he couldn't believe that he_ _had put that look there: brows drawn together and chocolate eyes intense in confusion. He wanted to reach out and smooth the knitted lines. Spock shouldn't take him too seriously; his dam of emotions would break the Vulcan in half._

" _I do not understand." Spock's voice was slow like he was talking more to himself than to McCoy._

" _I'm sure you don't. Regret is a human thing, right?"_

_Leonard watched as Spock's face closed, went slack with blandness. If he didn't know better he would say he offended the damn computer, the way he turned from McCoy and lowered his head back to the controls. There were days memories welled up in him and just wouldn't quit. They were like one too many glasses of ice tea after five too many fresh picked apples. Like lead weight rolling in his belly. Fuck, he made a hobby out of rumination. And bourbon if he were being honest._

" _Leonard," at the sound of his name his head whipped around so fast he saw two hobgoblins._

" _What?" The word was hard and tight and where the hell was Jim when you needed him. And Christ in heaven he had a big mouth. He could have kept quiet, waited for their fearless leader and beamed down. Instead, he ran his mouth, trying to make small talk and ended up tumbling into memory lane. "What," he says again, softer and with his drawl._

" _Emotion is not limited to humans, nor is regret a purely 'human thing'."_

_Of course not and gee, thanks._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very old piece, from my freshman year of college. I had it posted on FF.net, but I have since stopped updating that site. I'm gradually putting all eight chapters up here, with minor edits.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first kiss.

He drank when he couldn't save someone. He drank when he came back from an away mission alive. He drank when the robot saved Jim from doing something stupid and he didn't have to peel the kid's skin off of some godforsaken rock. He couldn't quite bring himself to toast the Vulcan but the sentiment was there. He used alcohol as he lifeline into oblivion and funnily enough it worked. He could forget about death and new species that always tried to kill them. He got lost in the beautiful liquid amber. He even kept one crystal tumbler just for his journeys to abandon. He was a Doctor damn it and too damn old to be stealing swings straight from the bottle.

 

If Leonard McCoy drank secretly he also drank responsibly. He kept a hypo by his bed to sober up quick and a bucket for the times he didn't have to. It wasn't a perfect plan but neither was getting falling down drunk to drown his pain. Between the first mouthful and ' _where the hell am I'_  he got himself an audience. Here was Spock, and he was so quiet and polite about McCoy's drunkenness that maybe he could stay. He couldn't remember if he asked him to sit down but Spock was perched on the corner of his bed. He must have offered him a drink at some point then ashamedly taken it back. He only had one glass. Now, he held the bottle awkwardly, cradling it between his thighs. He knew his door had chimed and hell Spock was here, wasn't he? He must have let him inside?

"You just going to stand there and watch me drink, pointy ears?"

"Do you wish me to join you?"

He paused glass right there on his lips, "What?"

"Shall I join you?" Repeated more slowly and with deliberate emphasis.

"You know damn well alcohol has no effect on Vulcan physiology." And yeah, he was proud because he hadn't slurred one word of that. He glared, but he knew it was tempered by his mellowness, the bourbon. "Whatdaya want, Spock?"

"It distressed you to see the colonist depart."

"What if it did?" He tipped the glass, the liquid burning down his throat. How drunk was he that talking to Spock was appealing? Damn.

"It is not our place to intrude in other cultures."

"Well-," it took him a hiccup to regain his focus, "it's a good thing I didn't inter-interfere."

"Perhaps, we should have this conversation when you have regained cont-"

"Damn it, you hobgoblin. I don't want to have this conversation at all. I kept my mouth shut, didn't I? I was proper and followed your fucking regulations."

"Doctor."

"What? What else is there to say?" He hadn't known his was shouting until the cabin was silent, his ragged breaths hallow in the stillness. He snapped his head around, ignoring the sharp pain in his temple. He began again, more gently, as if Spock was the one needing comfort. "People aren't supposed to die with a fucking audience, Spock. And they sure as hell aren't suppose to die while a damn doctor is standing there watching."

"It is not logical to blame yourself for the colonist death. It is irrelevant in this situation. The decision was out of our control from the moment we welcomed them aboard."

"Is that supposed to be a pep talk. Fuck you, Spock." McCoy got up, shakily and almost fell. He was seeing two Vulcan's but he couldn't've said whether it was the bourbon or his own anger clouding his vision. He closed his eyes for a moment and then he was stumbling and he was furious because, hell, he was a doctor and Spock was still here.

He felt himself being hauled up by strong hands. "M'fine," and really he was because he hadn't actually hit the floor, "get off."

"Stop." He froze, his body going still with numb relief. It registered that he was drunk and followed instantly that he shouldn't be. This was too much. It seemed to him that he had never quite heard Spock use that tone of voice. It sounded defeated, broken in a way.

They were so close he could make out the Vulcan's black pupils from the deep chocolate irises. He shrugged one of his arms free of Spock's grip, bringing his hand up but not touching.

"I'm scaring you, Spock."

His words were slurred but disbelief still bled through. With a hand still firmly grasping his arm, Leonard leaned forward letting their lips brush. He didn't want to think anymore and the robot was so warm, so fucking hot. Hell's bells he was insane but he pressed along Spock, kissing the corner of the bow lips. The hand he had let hover moved to the pale cheek, cupping gently.

One of them moaned and damn it he couldn't be that far gone. He slid his hands around touching the soft hair at the nape of Spock's neck. It felt…good and not just because he was on this side of intoxicated. Pointy ears was getting him hard and he didn't have an ounce of self-respect left to keep from pressing his erection into the other man's thigh. He groaned against Spock's neck, tasting salt and something very clean, Vulcan-like. This was downright embarrassing. He sucked a bruise into the tender skin and hell yeah that won him an actual growl.

"Doctor."

* * *

 

_He and paperwork were old friends and sometimes it was a welcome break from broken bones that could have been avoided or infections from plants that should never have been touched. There was a difference between helping people and some of the inane accidents that walked into sickbay. The Enterprise gave him a sense of humor though and for that his was damn grateful._

_The little round species to whom they were playing host had a sense of humor. Everything made them laugh. They doubled over and gave deep chuckles that made you wonder if their atmosphere was made of nitrous oxide. They moved around the ship spreading a sort of contagious happiness. He looked up to find one sitting on a biobed and grinning ear to ear at absolutely nothing._

_It was too little too late when he realized what they were doing with these aliens, where they were taking them. He could feel the knife twist into his gut during the briefing. He gave Jim credit for being genuinely in the dark about the finer details but it didn't stop him wanting to flip a table._

_Boszi, the colony's bubbly little leader, sat at the far end of the room. Even as he described the illness and the people's choice to be isolated and ultimately left for dead, the man smiled. He had a wide set mouth that looked like it was eating his face. McCoy didn't see any sadness, not even remorse for all of the people he was condemning. There was only an ease, and patience in his face, as if he didn't understand the Doctor's concern. He tilted his head at Leonard and it was so like Spock._

_He actually glared at Boszi in a vain attempt at intimidation. He thought and then decided in the same instant. He hadn't met a disease yet that he wasn't willing to beat back with is bare hands._

_The four of them looked anywhere but at each other and that was fine by him. He needed to think. What did he know and how long did he have to turn water into wine? Finally though he spoke quietly, "What if I could cure you?"_

_They looked around at him, as if he were the one on trial, but more likely because they knew him. He had a need to cure._

" _Thank you, Doctor, but my people have made their peace with this."_

" _Well then don't tell'em until I've got a cure. It's still two weeks before we-"_

" _Our own Doctors have tried. We have no interest in long term testing. The only knowledge of the illness we require is that which ensures the health of this ship while we are in transit."_

" _Let me at least try."_

_He felt Spock beside him, expressionless and single-minded. He could have screamed at that damn patient look. These…creatures were going to die, wither away to nothing. How could he make things any worse?_

" _I'm sorry, but I will not change my mind." Boszi moved from the chair abruptly, his overly long limbs swinging as he glided towards the door. Jim stood, too, walking him to the doors. "I do not fear death, Doctor."_

_Leonard turned from the waist, his motions jerky, harsh. "It's not about fear, damn it. I could fix –I could do something. For Chirst sakes-"_

" _Bones." Jim's tone was stiff with warning but it was Spock's silence, his aloofness that actually enraged him. Leonard turned his back on the other two, watching Spock's profile, and he willed some sort of reaction from the Vulcan. Even a sliver of humanity would have been welcomed in those split seconds. Spock didn't even meet his eyes._

_There were some murmured words and a swoosh of the doors. Whether Jim was inside or not didn't particularly matter to him. When had saving lives become so damn complicated?_

" _Leave this alone, Bones. It's a direct order from up top and," he held up a hand, "and before you ask, yes, I did try. I ranted and raved because I knew you would want to help." Softly, "you always want to help. So don't you think I would do everything in my power to fix it if I could?"_

_Leonard frowned hard, releasing a breath that he couldn't remember holding. "Well," and when he didn't answer, more sharply, "I tried."_

" _Yes, of course. I know, Jim."_

" _Good, then do as I say for once and don't argue," the please was implied but still it would have hurt less if he had bothered to say it._

_He hadn't taken his eyes off Spock and still didn't. Not as he heard Jim sigh and still not as the doors opened and closed. "What a royal fuck-up," he said quietly._

" _I would agree that this is not an ideal situation."_

" _Oh, sonofabitch, Spock." He stood and damn it he felt cracked and more deeply wounded than when his daddy gave him 'that look'. The one that said he was so disappointed Leonard wanted to die in a hole. "Is that what you have to say. 'This is not an ideal situation.'" He laughed but it was hollow. He let loose his anger, his desperation because Spock could take it; he would simply raise an eyebrow, tilt his head. No overt emotion for the computer. He felt like wrapping his hands around the man's neck and dragging something from him, pain, fear, anger because people were dying damn it. He has to feel something. "Do something, Spock. Do something." His voice dripped with grief that was already beginning to consume him._

" _What would you have me do, Doctor? You said yourself that you believe the Captain to have given his best effort. Is there an alternative that I would be able to accomplish?"_

" _You don't have any ideas in that arithmetical head of yours?"_

" _None short of brute force."_

_He blinked down at the man, stunned that the thought had even crossed Spock's mind. "At least you were thinking," He muttered, "damn computer has a heart."_

_Spock stood, forcing Leonard to look up to meet his eyes. "This is an unfavorable situation that no amount of personal guile can change." He looked like he wanted to say more, but instead stepped away, closer to the door. There were times when Spock took his breath away with his stoic gentleness. Because despite it all he damn well knew Spock felt sympathy; he knew what was happening to these people was just senseless._

_He forced himself to stand on the bridge as Boszi's people were beamed down to a deserted planet, their own personal fucking graveyard. Two hundred and six people. The bridge wasn't quiet as they orbited, the last group in transport. He had snapped at Chekhov the moment he stepped off the lift and Jim shot him a look. The clearest possible warning that could mean nothing but_ _no_ _. No, he was not to speak of their conversation with Boszi. Their silly little friends were gone. Jim squeezed his shoulder when he ordered a new heading. No grief, no mourning, it was just done._

_He felt the Vulcan's eyes on him and scolded, throwing all of his fury into that look. If no one was going to feel anything than fuck if he wasn't going to feel enough for them all._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second kiss and the third.

McCoy stepped off the lift, leaving one hand on the doors to keep them open. "You two 0800 and 0830 tomorrow in my office or I'll relieve you of duty. That's an order." He was back inside the life before either Spock or Jim could exchange looks. Quarterly checkups on a starship were hell in a hand basket and he got damn tired of chasing down people. Particularly pointy eared robots that he couldn't even look in the eye. And lord it seemed like he had just gone through this.

He was used to being avoided during physical time, so when 0800 rolled around and Jim wasn't standing at attention in front of his desk, he wasn't surprised. He glanced at the chronometer and went back to lab work. He'd hunt them both down later, scold and bluster a little. Every once and a while he had to put on a show.

At five 'til 0830 a shadow fell across his desk. "What is it," he said with just the barest hint of irritation. He was shocked and confused as hell to see Spock looking cool as ever.

"I believe your exact words were '0830 tomorrow in my office or I'll relieve you of duty'. I am early, but I have no objections to waiting."

"Oh, hell, Spock. Of all the times not to wheedle your way out of a seeing me."

"I do not 'wheedle' as you say. This is a starship and it is often beyond my control to prevent crises."

"I'm sure it is," McCoy mumbled. "Go on, pick a bed and give me a minute." Damn hobgoblin had the most impeccable timing. He watched through the window shade as Spock walked through the deserted sickbay to the very last bed, pulling the curtain sharply around him. He took his time straightening his office, gathering strength as he saw it.

When he stepped up to the curtain it occurred to him to announce himself in some way. He couldn't shake the awkwardness that was Spock. He pulled the old band aide trick and just went and did it. Plain and simple he just kept his eyes down. McCoy scanned Spock, asked him relevant questions and made notes on his PADD. He was a professional damnit and not even an overgrown leprechaun was going to stop him from doing his job. For his part, Spock kept quiet, doing exactly as the doctor asked. Quickly, he looked up at the Vulcan through his lashes wondering if Spock was anywhere near as uncomfortable as him; he couldn't help but stare at the man, letting his eyes wander carefully to a spot just below his jaw line.

As if sensing his gaze Spock said, "I assure you, Doctor, I am quite healed."

He snorted, moving on to check the Vulcan's heart but curiosity got the better of him and he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "You've avoided this for nearly two weeks and now you just up and-" He trailed off pressing a hand to the man's side, moving the tricorder parallel. "I should have threatened a little sooner."

"I am not always in control of the circumstances."

"Oh, you have a hell of a lot more control than you say. And you know something, I'll take avoidance from Jim because he'll damn well end up down here anyway, but if I didn't bark orders once and a while I wouldn't know your ass from your hand. Healing trances or not, I'm still your Doctor. Don't fucking ignore me." He took a deep breath, feeling like a jilted prom queen. Every ounce of discomfort was pouring out of him and suddenly it was such an effort not to shake the damn elf.

He was so lost in himself he missed the beginning of Spock's reply, "-is not my intention to belittle your competence. I-"

"Why you arrogant little robot-"

"Doctor," Spock's voice rose above his, calm and edged in patience. "Please allow me to finish."

And quick as panic spread he closed his mouth. Maybe it was foolish but so was having this conversation with Spock half-naked trying to complete a physical. "Fine then," he grunted.

"My unwillingness to seek medical attention is no reflection on your skill as a physician. I am capable of healing myself effectively; the other members of this crew are not. It is logical that I not waste your time."

"You're a conceited elf. You along with everyone else on this ship are my responsibility. It's not up for debate," as much as he would like to hand the robot over to someone else, as goddamn uncomfortable as being around him was, "take a couple of deep breaths."

"I believe the tricorder has taken sufficient readings of my-"

"Are you a damn Doctor?" He stood behind Spock, palm pressed over a lung, even as the tricorder showed a perfectly healthy respiratory cycle. It was comforting to actually touch, to feel for himself that the damn computer actually had a beating heart.

He sighed and tapped down on any feelings of contentment he felt at touching the man. In his own maddening way Spock was driving him up the damn walls. Whatever this dance of theirs was, he was getting tired of it. He was too old and too grumpy to keep up their duck and cover game. "Get your clothes on. We need to talk." He heard shuffles, the stamp of a boot being pushed into place and then the curtain being tugged, exposing them to the world. He led the way to his office and sat heavily at his desk, striving and failing to keep a shred of his professionalism. The battle was lost completely with his next words, "I'm sorry I kissed you."

"Twice," Spock said blandly.

Leonard's head shot up, blushing a horrible cherry red but his voice was like steel, "Now, look, I'm trying to be civil, damnit."

"I appreciate that such an endeavor is at the upper most limits of your self control; however, I am merely attempting to be factual."

"Yeah, and I'm a spring lamb," McCoy snorted.

"That is neither here nor there, Doctor."

"Don't be so fucking smug, Spock." He tossed his hands in the air, his whole face letting loose. "I can't keep this up. I can't keep avoiding you. I'm calling it quits."

"I was not aware this was a game. You're avoidance, though, was unnecessary."

"So accept my apology?" And he didn't know if he was pleading to save whatever mangled relationship they had or just trying to restore  _some_  normalcy.

"I accept that you have very little emotional control."

"Goddamn it, you hobgoblin. What if I told you that in some ass backwards way you helped me?"

"Then to some extent I have done my duty as first officer in assisting you. Your apology is superfluous."

Leonard stood, his fist clenched on the edge of his desk cutting into the metal that wouldn't give, not under petty human strength. He leaned over his desk, bent awkwardly and liable to fall into the Vulcan's lap if he lost his balance. "I swear to god Spock I can't see anything but red right now. It's taking all of the self-restraint you think I don't have not to find out how well you bounce." He clenched and unclenched his hands, feeling the sticky wetness of blood on his fingertips.  _Fuck._  And lord love a duck Spock was still here.

Leonard was a cantankerous old man and most days it took a glare and a barked word from him to scare people away. It was almost funny that Spock didn't budge, and a part of him wanted to laugh. Laugh and double over so he was falling right into Spock's lap because wouldn't that teach the elf not to heed his warnings. He looked up and then down quickly at his hands. His finger nails had a thin crust of crimson under them.

Spock steeped his hands together and looked at Leonard over them thoughtfully. He wanted to shake his head and remind the elf that this is his office and his discussion to steer. Instead he frowned and hung his head. Jesus, how to make a Vulcan understand that he didn't want pity? He wanted to be in charge, right?

"Doctor, I can be broken."

His head couldn't fall any farther and all he really wanted was to hide, because Spock had lines from a Roman comedy and all he had were funny little phrases that never made it from brain to mouth.

* * *

 

_McCoy was doing a good job of avoiding Spock and damn if he didn't notice but he thought Spock was giving him the 'ol heave ho too. To a certain extent being drunk was an excuse for his pawing of the robot but his mind just wouldn't allow him to apologize. However he felt about the elf, he knew the Vulcan was a damn good first officer. They couldn't dance with their hands on each other's asses forever._

_He gave himself a week. A week in which several things happened and he had a hell of a time keeping his temper in check. On Monday, stardate, who the fuck cares-he preferred to keep some semblance of humanity in his timekeeping- Starfleet ordered comprehensive psych evals…two months early. On the best of days the evals were hell. The crew got twitchy around him, started trying to fix injuries themselves just to steer clear of him. It was all he could do not to pin them to a chair and demand answers. Hell he would have taken a simple 'I'm fine' over the sheer panic and terror most of the crew shot his ways._

_His first year on the ship he had tried the most direct and rookie approach there was: he scheduled everyone for an appointment. He sat across from them looking like damn Freud and asked them all how the hell they were feeling._

_A chorus of "Great, wonderful, perfects," still ran through his head, and of course all of it was horse manure._

_Every last crewmen on this damn bucket of metal had problems; they had seen all nine circles of hell and were living to tell the tale._

_On Tuesday he remembered that he was a member of the crew and would have to be evaluated himself._

_It was Wednesday when he realized M'brenga was a thousand light years away._

_And it was Thursday before he remembered that Spock had several degrees in Psychology._

_Friday he gave himself a mental shake. He was a grown up for heaven's sake and a professional. He could fucking spend fifty minutes with the elf. Knowing the man he wouldn't even remark on the kiss; to him it must have been just another case of human irrationality and overindulgence._

_He almost counted his lucky stars that evals were moved up, at least when he gave the quarterly exams he could ask a question or two. Lord knows dragging them into his office just to be rebuffed before he even opened his mouth wasn't working. On Saturday a message from Spock flashed on his PADD; he ignored it. It wasn't marked urgent or even personal. It was normal and normal could be forgotten until it wasn't a damn inconvenience to him._

_McCoy didn't realize until it was too late that he should have read the message. He looked up at Spock with actual rage when he showed up in sickbay. He pointed him towards his office with a gruff command that sounded vaguely like an alley cat fighting over fish bones._

_He finished his rounds quickly and sort of stormed into his office. He had any number of insults on the tip of his tongue but the rage all fell away abruptly. He didn't have the right to be angry with Spock and he wasn't some damn teenager who was fucked and never heard from the guy again. HE had kissed Spock and in his terrible drunkenness he ground his erection against the Vulcan then thrown him out in less than five minutes flat. He_   _owed_ _the elf a civilized conversation at least._

_Without preamble Spock spoke to him. "You did not answer my request."_

" _What?"_

" _I requested we complete your psychological evaluation today at 0830 in your quarters. You were not present."_

" _Yeah, I see how that could have been a real problem for ya," he said with a wry smile._

_Spock raised an eyebrow. "Indeed. Explain, please."_

_Leonard mumbled some indistinct obscenities before grumbling, "I didn't get the message," a lie but at lease it sounded less childish than-_

" _-you did not read it," Spock corrected._

" _What the hell's the difference at this point?"_

" _Only that one implies willful intent."_

" _Well, I wonder why Spock," and his voice cut across them like nails on a chalkboard, all sharp anger and indignation._

" _I do wonder, Doctor."_

_McCoy snorted the sound reverberating through his throat and leaving a constraining dryness. "Even you can't be that clueless."_

" _You are embarrassed."_

" _Congratulations. You've picked the right answer from a selection of one."_

" _And, you are angry with me," he continued as if Leonard hadn't even spoken._

_Leonard sighed and leaned wearily against the wall. "No," he finally said. "I'm furious with myself. You just happen to be in my war path. I made an ass of myself and fuck if I know how to fix it." He looked up at the robot and just for a moment he thought he saw understanding, or perhaps comprehension._

" _Doctor, you were under extreme stress."_

_He tilted his head, stunned, "you're giving me an out?"_

" _It is what you want, is it not?"_

" _No, damnit, Spock. I'm a grown man. I can take responsibility for my actions."_

" _I am not suggesting otherwise, but your sentimentality must be taken into account."_

_He nearly stamped his foot, like a goddamned child but in the end he settled for an old fashion glare. Partly because he didn't know if Spock was insulting him or sympathizing. After a moment he realized it could be both. "Christ, Spock, are you wound so tightly you can't recognize good old rumination when you see it?"_

" _I admit I am having trouble distinguishing your 'contemplation' from pouting."_

_McCoy's face crumpled and he laughed hard and with such force that he had to clutch his side. "Thanks, you damn leprechaun."_

" _For what, Doctor?"_

" _For making a joke; it was funny enough I almost forgot it was actually an insult."_

_A perfect black eyebrow rose. "I have never known you to overlook even the most well disguised of barbs."_

_Leonard surprised himself and stepped forward, toe to toe with the hobgoblin, his eyes danced a brilliant blue in his amusement. "I'm giving you one damn freebie. Say thank you and move on."_

" _Thank you," Spock said his tone light._

 _And then McCoy kissed at him again. He leaned up and forward and planted his lips against soft, full ones. He didn't think; he couldn't or wouldn't realize that he wasn't drunk. He was simply groping Spock of his own free will. Oh. He angled his head differently and he felt a tongue touch his own. He felt warm, a perfect gust engulfing him so completely he could have collapsed. A hand settled on his waist._ _**Was it pushing or pulling.** _ _He didn't care._

_The warmth was filling him and it was several seconds before he recognized that it was pooling in his groin. He felt an overwhelming need to grind against something…someone. He thrust forward breaking the kiss to gasp into Spock's shoulder._

_His body was a broken, sick fuck. But he still felt that hand on his waist, incredibly hot even through his shirt. He should stop. He really, really should_ _**STOP** _ _. Instead, he forced his hips into faster circles, desperate for-_

 _He didn't let himself think anymore; he wouldn't think about getting off on a damn computer. Who_ _**STILL** _ _hadn't pushed him away?_

_He was almost viciously moving against Spock, barely aware of the absolute inappropriateness of the situation. He pushed his conscious to the farthest reaches of his mind._

_McCoy latched onto Spock's neck, nipping and then sinking his teeth in possessively. His mind bulked. What the fuck was his doing marking Spock? What the fuck was he doing period? End of story he was out of his damn mind. Funnily enough, Spock would say he was never in his right mind. Nevertheless he soothed the mark gently with his tongue, the overt cooper taste assailing him and doing wonders for his erection._

_Distantly he heard sickbay doors swoosh open. Despite being safe within his office he jumped back from Spock. His body was on fire. For a moment there was a frantic confusion within him, his body protested the loss of warmth. Or maybe it was protesting the specific loss of Spock, either way for an instant it felt like he was going to fall back into Spock. It felt like he was going to demand the overgrown elf help him finish._

_He met Spock' s eyes for the briefest of moments before his gaze found the mark on his neck, bright and fresh, and wholly out of place on the austere Vulcan. Leonard's eyes were blown wide, his dick still impossibly hard and his face more red than a baboon's ass. He was seventeen and horny all over again. His face couldn't settle on one emotion to convey: rage, shock, disgust, lust… he turned from Spock thudding his head on the wall hard enough to hurt. He reached out abruptly and flung a dermal regenerator over his shoulder._

_"_ _Get out," he whispered. No movement. He whirled. Spock was still there, horribly calm and with one eyebrow in his hairline. If he had any control, any sense of patience, it snapped right there and then because watching Spock was going to kill. He was dying. "Get the fuck out." And maybe it wasn't a scream but it sure as hell wasn't his damn inside voice. When again nothing happened he fled. He ran from his own damn office like his Gran was chasing him with a wooden spoon._


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three's a crowd but the other two are homicidal idiots: foreplay.

"You look like hell," McCoy said. His tone is rough and he doesn't look up at Spock. 

"Perhaps," and if they both hadn't been so damn tired it may have been a joke, funny at least to him. But they were going on seventy-two hours awake with no more than twenty hours of sleep between them. He was too tired to be anything but direct and by the looks of it Spock wasn't faring much better. He couldn't quite remember ever seeing him look so tousled. He was a controlled shipwreck if there were such a thing.

"Go to bed," he finally said, impatience and pent up frustrations twined together. "I'll finish up here and check on Jim. Unless you'd rather," he let his voice drift, sighing as the man stiffened.

Spock tapped a finger along the chair's arm, once, twice, before folding his hands together tightly. "I am perfectly able to continue working."

"Just because you can doesn't mean you should, Spock The way you're going isn't natural."

"Doctor."

He looked up rubbing the bridge of his nose and trying with all his might not to sigh. He didn't want a fight; he didn't even want to keep working but someone had to finish the paperwork and only one of them didn't have a ship to run. "I mean it, Spock. Sleep," then he added with less heat, "at least for a few hours."

Spock stared straight ahead, his eyes fixed on a point just below McCoy's shoulder. "I prefer to work."

"I don't care." He shook his head for the first time in days feeling genuine anger at the Vulcan. "It's a cold day in hell before Jim does anything Jim doesn't want to do. You warned him, and that's all you can do. He's not dead. He's healing nicely in fact. Can't that be enough? Or do Vulcan's always have to fucking say  _I told you so_  too?"

"Are you implying that I am unhappy the Captain lived to prove me wrong?"

"Jesus, Christ, Spock. What kind of upside down dichotomous world do you like in? I know you're not happy, damn it. He stayed in that cave because he wanted to. He thought he was doing the right thing, misguided as it was. Spock," he said sharply and promptly dark eyes connected with fatigued blue ones.

"I understand, Doctor. The accident was not my fault."

"No." Exhausted and finally at the end of his rope he grasped Spock's chin as if he were an errant child, forcing their gazes to hold steady. You're acting like a damn… Listen, Jim doesn't do these things, these idiotic, heroic things, to hurt us. It's just him." His grip softened and now his hand was more of a reassuring touch.  _Reassuring to whom?_

"You can go crazy with worry, Spock. Every cut and bruise is a personal affront that strikes right at your own inadequacies and sooner rather than later the losses count for more than the ones you saved. It's a vicious fucking cycle and I'm trying to spare you from it."

Spock fixed him with a hard stare, his eyes seemingly dull. "You should rest, Doctor. I will finish the reports." Spock reached for his hand still gently cupping the Vulcan's jaw but McCoy snatched it away.

He felt a deep ache in his gut and it occurred to him that he was hurt beyond belief. He didn't want to be touched; he wanted the damn computer to be something other than logical for one damn minute.

He stood, the combination of disappointment and wariness making him dizzy. "Do whatever the fuck you want."

He moved past Spock. Did it matter than Spock hadn't heard one damn word of what he'd said? Let him learn the hard way that you can't save everyone so you better be twice as grateful for the ones you can. The doors opened revealing the semi-darkness of sickbay. He could make out two of the gamma shift nurses moving further away from him towards the muted light of Jim's biobed. His office light spilled out and flooded a small portion of the floor, brilliant and harsh.

Long fingers gripped his elbow and maybe he stepped back on his own or maybe Spock tugged. Either way he was twisted back into a solid, lean body. It was an awkward embrace and Leonard let himself drown in the man. Later when he thought about it he figured that Spock had not been trying to hug him so much as continue talking. He didn't think it mattered though because it ended with McCoy tucking his face into the juncture of the Vulcan's neck and shoulder. He melted in the other man's body, his heat. For a moment his world narrowed; it became all about how damn worried his was, how he would have given his right arm for a second of peace.

His arms hung at his sides, hands twitching because he was thinking about clutching Spock's waist but lord he wasn't a girl who'd gotten her pigtails pulled on the playground. He didn't need more than this. This quiet passivity as he sorted himself out.

Spock still had a firm grip on his arm, but the hand was gentle, absolutely unassuming. A weight settled between his shoulder blades. A hand, his mind supplied belatedly. It was nice. Better than nice. It was the most comforting damn thing anyone had done for him in…God, he couldn't've said.

He thought about a few weeks ago and kissing Spock. He had been so drunk, so fucking stupid. He thought about rutting against Spock only a week ago. He thought about Spock saving him. Jesus he had a goddamn pattern of instability. He thought about the last three days, and no sleep and using medicine to create miracles. He thought about Spock's silent anger, Jim's hope and him right in the middle. He turned his face completely into Spock's shoulder, feeling something break inside of him. He could have stayed here forever. He could-

"Do you feel ready to return to your quarters?"

His matter of fact-ness struck Leonard as hilarious, a complete fucking joke given their embrace. He huffed into the Vulcan's neck and allowed himself to feel the slightest bit content. He stepped away from Spock, hanging his head for a second. His light brown hair brushed the bottom of Spock's chin, the hand on his back fell away. Another step back and the grip on his elbow disappeared.

"You're a bad habit, Spock."

"In what way, Doctor?"

Leonard's mouth quirked into half a smile, shaking his head. "You ought to start charging me for my emotional outburst. God knows you put up with enough of them."

"You could not afford me." He lifted an eyebrow in a near challenge, but they both were running on empty and hell he was almost enjoying himself.

"You know something, Spock?"

"I know many things, but I suspect you will be informing me of something specific."

"Damn right," and Leonard's smile belayed his cutting tone. He touched the panel to open his door, stepping into the archway. "Hobgoblin's are a hell of a lot funnier after three sleepless nights."

"And grumpy Doctors become almost tolerable."

"You're a goddamn holy terror," McCoy called over his shoulder as he left Spock standing in his office.

* * *

 

 

 _When McCoy was practicing his craft he was calm. His hands were steady; he asked the right questions and for fucksake he did not panic. Certainly not when Spock beamed up dragging Jim and there was so much blood he thought the kid's heart had been ripped out. He fell immediately to his knees beside them, scanning and probing, getting half stories over his barked orders. It took an awful thirty seconds for him to_ know _that Jim wasn't going to die._

_One…Don't you dare fucking die. Seven…Jesus, there's so much blood. Twelve…you're supposed to be a damn superhero. Eighteen…Jim? Twenty…I-I can't do this alone. Twenty-Two…Spock can't do this alone. Twenty-Seven…Wake the fuck up, you damn irresponsible- Thirty…There is a god._

_He met Spock's eyes briefly and prayed that his silent communication skills were up to par. "Help me," he said beginning to lift Jim, but Spock took the man's full weight and preceded McCoy to sickbay._

" _Spock," he whispered as they moved through the ship._

" _Yes, Doctor," he answered just as quietly._

" _Are you alright?"_

_He nearly ran into the Vulcan's back he stopped so damn quickly. There was something disconcerting about his dark eyes. He could have sworn it was anger or resentment, but then it was gone. His chocolate eyes cleared and he calmly relayed his injuries. "I am well enough," he concluded, "perhaps even lucky."_

_McCoy touched Spock's shoulder, a painfully lacking gesture considering the circumstances and he withdrew his hand almost immediately. "God takes care of children and fools," he said softly._

_Spock nodded, his eyes trained on the bloody finger prints he had left. He didn't seem inclined to respond, or even to be particularly interested in what McCoy was saying._

_In sickbay, he stood frozen beside Jim's bed as Leonard cleaned and stabilized him. It was calming to work so rhythmically, to fix Jim as he had so many times before. Finally he asked, "What happened?"Spock's eyes fixed on his and if he didn't know better he'd say there was resignation in that gaze. But they had done this a hundred times before and he did know better. He waited for the Vulcan to speak, watching drops of green blood fall from his cheek to merge with the red on his science blues. "Lay down and at least let me take a look at you."_

_He picked a bed four away from Jim and lay back, rigid as a stick. He shut his eyes when McCoy began examining him and he was surprised when Spock began to speak. "The Captain wished to meet with the rebels, in an attempt to fairly distribute the supplies we provided. The Cetisti leader willingly took us to their camp. He wanted to impress upon us that they were not interested in suppressing the rebels, simply making their life very uncomfortable. It was no more than tents in the foot hills. Deplorable really, and wholly outside of our jurisdiction. Jim wanted to fully explore the rebel camp; I believe he thought that if we were able to present Starfleet with evidence of the people's continued abuse preventative measures could be taken."_

" _Residual guilt," McCoy murmured._

" _An ill considered plan," Spock returned, "but noble."_

_Leonard shook his head "tell me the rest," and he angled Spock's head to heal the cut on his temple._

" _The Captain intended for us to stay the night inside of the camp. He wanted an experience of sorts. Unfortunately, their homes were either tents in the harsh winter or structurally unsound caves within the hills. Neither, I found to be acceptable. In truth, a night in the elements would have been more forgiving."_

_He chuckled. Only Spock would compare frostbite to being buried alive and come up with a winner. "There's no arguing with him once he's made up his mind. You should know better."_

" _Then I am the fool?" He met Leonard's eyes and now there was no evidence that Spock had ever been hurt, no trace of the numerous cuts and abrasions. McCoy was a fucking magician and maybe that wasn't a good thing because damn it maybe Jim needed to remember. Maybe he needed to fucking see that when he gambled his life he gambled Spock's as well. He reached out suddenly, furious at Jim and unbelievably relived that he wasn't patching up something a damn sight more serious on the Vulcan. He touched Spock's knuckles, calmly and it was more like a brush. He looked so peaceful he could have been asleep._

" _We're all a little of both," he said finally._

 

_It was a day before Jim woke up, groggy and already on edge about their failed mission. He had called Spock down when he first started to come around. They stood together beside the bed watching Jim rapidly blink them into focus. He wasn't surprised when he began to speak, his voice gathering speed and volume as he fully gained consciousness, but he was stunned by the anger and unpleasantness. "What the fuck happened," came through loudest. Jim's eyes trained on Spock. He could feel Spock tense, hell he was standing straight as a board._

_This was goddamn ridiculous. He laid a hand on Kirk's shoulder and his rage seemed to drain away instantly, replaced with an uncomfortable vulnerability. Leonard sedated him again and it was partly a relief because he just didn't have the energy to deal with Jim ranting about unchangeable things. Partly because Jim was going to regret this later, he would regret this unkindness to his best friend and if Leonard could spare them both then he should._

_Spock had waited for him in his office. "When will the Captain be able to return to duty?"_

" _Why, eager to skip out on the paperwork?" Spock raised an eyebrow. "Sorry," he muttered, "bad joke." He leaned a hip against his desk. "I don't know. Maybe tomorrow, if I thought he would take it easy and stay in his quarters. His lung is still growing back. There's an enormous strain on his internal organs. A loud noise could send him into an early grave, not to mention the hell we encounter on a routine mission." He shrugged, "another day or two at least."_

" _Very well."_

" _Spock," Leonard said as the Vulcan turned to leave._

" _Yes, Doctor?"_

" _You could sit with him. I think it would be good for him to-"_

" _-wake up with someone at his bedside." Leonard started; Spock never interrupt, something to do with his over developed sense of politeness. "Doctor, he has no awareness of our presence."_

" _That's never stopped you before," he snapped._

" _I have other matters that require my attention," and even said in that trademark bland tone McCoy could hear the dismissal._

_He thought that if Spock left it wouldn't only mean that Jim was alone but that he was as well. Suddenly that seemed unbearable. Because his sickbay was crowded but not for him and if he had to assure one more damn person that Jim was not dying he might throw himself out of an airlock. He didn't know how many different ways he could say Jim was recovering. It was draining and somewhat undermining. He was a damn good Doctor and never a liar._

" _Sit with me, then," he said quickly. "You can work just as well in here as the bridge, better probably."_

_Spock nodded, leaving and returning five minutes later with three neat stacks of PADDs._

 

_When Jim woke up again a nurse shook his shoulder and he jolted awake. He made his way up slowly; his office was empty, and the PADDs arranged on a corner of his bookshelf. There was something touching about the gesture, as if Spock meant to come back, as if he were making a space for himself._

_Jim was up, leaning against pillows and he shot Leonard a sheepish smile. "I was an ass," he conceded._

" _Damn right," Leonard said kindly._

" _I mean about everything, Bones. The rebel camp. Shouting at Spock."_

" _I know. It's done now though." He pulled a tricorder out, looking over Kirk diligently._

" _How's Spock? What time's his shift end? Does he usually come right after? I'll get a chess board brought in, you know." He smiled that endearing smile that always evoked tender feelings, instant forgiveness._

_He met Jim's eyes, a deep blue against his own sky colored ones, and although he wanted to soften what he had to say a small part of him thought Jim had no right to demand such easy forgiveness. "He doesn't come, Jim," and then because it wasn't in his nature to hurt he added, "He's been a little damn busy running your ship."_

_Kirk frowned through a tentative smile, "He's mad?"_

" _That would be very un-Vulcan."_

" _Bones-"_

" _You can't charm your way out of this, Jim."_

" _Who says that's what I want? Did he tell you everything?"_

" _Some," McCoy nodded. "Only the facts though, nothing about why you were so damn determined to help_ **THESE** _rebels."_

_He slumped, dragging a hand over several days' growth. "It gets a little harder each time I have to walk away. Knowing we can help, but always being told no. Something I can't fucking stand it, Bones. I got it in my head that if I could experience their life it would be easier to help them bargain. They were living in hell. I mean it was disgusting and their government knew. They just didn't give a damn." He sighed and coughed for a moment. "Spock was right though. It was dangerous. I told him if he was so worried he could beam back up, but I was staying. He saved ensign Tates. Right as the cave-in started he pulled her against the outer wall. Kass wasn't so lucky."_

" _You're supposed to feel it more deeply, Jim. The good gets to be shared but the bad," he frowned, laying his tricorder down and turning fully to him, "the bad, Jim, is severe and terrible and a hundred times worse for you."_

" _You're killing me, Doc."McCoy gave him a funny little smile that seemed to say 'hell yes I'm a genius.' "I could order him down here," Jim finally said._

" _Don't," Leonard said instantly. "You leave him alone James Kirk and let this mess fix itself."_

" _Or what," Jim said, sounding for the entire world like an eleven year old boy. But there was real heat behind the words, real unhappiness._

_He drew his brows together, feeling his own ire rise. "I'm keeping you here for thirty six- hours. Like it or not."_

 

_Everything was so damn quiet that of course something had to go wrong. It couldn't be his problem though because abruptly he had his hands full of an overanxious Jim trying with everything short of a phaser to abscond from sickbay to the bridge. He had the urge to lock Kirk in his office just so he could try and treat the increasingly serious injured. All the while the klaxon blared, making him wish he could cut off his own ears._

_He felt pulled in every direction at once and it was hours before he wondered back into sickbay. It was a small miracle that Jim was still there. He marveled at the man's natural instinct to lead. Even here, confined to a bed, he was holding court among the other patients, laughing and charming them into wellness. It was a goddamn art.; the rest of them were just along for the ride. He stood to the side not interrupting or even daring to breathe for fear of upsetting the peace._

" _What do you see?"_

_He actually fucking jumped, his back knocking into a very solid Vulcan. "Jesus, you overgrown elf, make a little damn noise," but Leonard whispered as well. It seemed shockingly intimate to watch Jim and the crew. Sad somehow because he was not among them; when he healed people they always got to leave. Spock wasn't among them either. He was so damn aloof, so fucking opposite of Jim. He pressed a hand to his temple, forcing the panic and weariness away. "I see the eighth fucking wonder of the world. I envy his easiness, his relatableness. It's a skill I can only mimic in a crisis."_

_He glanced around at Spock, who was still looking over his shoulder. "Some days I could wring his neck he's so damn stubborn. I hadn't quite realized though that Jim is Jim in large part because of you. You're a frantic machine, constantly in overdrive." He smiled wistfully. "You two can't be broken, Spock. Things just won't damn well work. Maybe you don't get it and I know HE doesn't but when all hell breaks loose this ships needs the two of you."_

_Spock looked down at him, eyes carefully blank. "I-I am unsure how to respond. I-"_

" _Don't damn it. " He frowned, stepping around the corner and Spock followed. "Don't give me half-assed reasons. If you're mad then just fucking be mad. God knows Jim could do with some humility, but stop brooding. Haven't you been meditating or whatever it is you do in your sauna of a room?"_

" _There has been very little time for rest or meditation," he added somewhat reluctantly._

_Spock looked ragged, messy almost and again he had spots of dried blood dotting him. Without hesitation McCoy reached out and dragged the Vulcan against him by the hips. "C'mere."_

_He kissed Spock gently and with a sort of desperation he hadn't felt since he was fifteen and making out with Macy Forbes. It was so fucking tame and compassionate it took him a second to realize Spock had him pinned to the wall nuzzling his check, his warm breath condensing on his skin. He cupped Spock's face and wiped a smug of dirt with one thumb. Weren't they a pretty pair?_

_He cocked his head sadly, knowing that if he was trying to help Spock kissing him was only a bad patch job. He leaned up anyway and nipped at his lower lip, tugging it affectionately. A hand caressed his wrist, almost holding. For a moment it felt like Spock would push him away because they were so damn close. Because they were pressed against a wall with only a few odd angles separating them from view. Instead, he took every movement and kiss that Leonard gave him. It seemed that the Vulcan was allowing his body to be used and asking nothing in return._

_Spock caressed the nape of Leonard's neck and he gave a sort of hopeless growl. This isn't working as he had planned. Yet, this wasn't a damn plan. It was dry humping against a wall and neither of the participants were coherent enough to properly consent._

_He settled his hands back on Spock's hips and maybe he just didn't pay any attention the first two times but this time he definitely felt the man's answering hardness. He moved forward and by some miracle Spock was meeting him halfway, and right then his breath started to go. He was suddenly fighting hard not to come in his pants, and Jesus Christ, was anyone going to remind him that they were in the middle of damn sickbay._

_Leonard ended the kiss. He didn't fucking understand Spock. What was going through his mind right now? He looked down; sometimes pointy ears was right: things were fascinating. Right now his hips were still moving, all by their damn self, against Spock's thigh and for god sakes he couldn't seem to stop. He tilted his head up for a last kiss before firmly pushing the hobgoblin off of him. "You take as long as you need to forgive Jim," he paused, his eyes soft and somber, "not more than two days, though."_


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Third base, light.

He wondered what Spock felt when they kissed. Could he taste the bourbon on his tongue after a long day? Could he smell the sharp antiseptic scent of sickbay after he had worked a double shift?

He threw an arm over his eyes, sighing. "What time is it," he mumbled. He felt a weight settle by his hip and fingers curl around his wrist bringing his arm down.

"0716."

"Well then let me sleep. I'm on beta today." He wasn't looking but he was damn sure Spock was doing that annoying eyebrow raise that doubled as a smirk. Goddamn hobgoblin and his 'non emotions'.

"Doctor, you should not sleep in your office."

He gave Spock his best 'aw shucks' look, his baby blues shining with amusement, maybe even challenge. "I didn't know you cared, darlin'."

Spock raised his other eyebrow and McCoy chuckled. With two fingers he reached out tapping the very tip of the Vulcan's nose, only to have his wrist recaptured between slim fingers. "What is it you want, Doctor?"

He tugged halfheartedly trying to pull away and grinning as Spock tightened his hold. "You could simply ask me to kiss you," Spock said, catching Leonard's other wrist and holding them together.

"Now what fun would that be?" He shook his head and leaned around his restrained hands so Spock could see his shy smile. He almost thought he wouldn't have to ask. Almost. Even his small request wasn't what Spock had demanded. "Are you gonna kiss me?" He was damn lucky that Spock wasn't a tease. He was straightforward and sharp and when the Vulcan did sigh and press their lips together it was prefect because Spock had this way of running his tongue along his teeth that drove him insane. He was becoming hopelessly lost in the elf.

He shifted urging Spock to lie beside him, "don't complain about your uniform getting wrinkled," he said.

Spock kissed him again, tilting his chin up with two fingers to kiss harder, with more intensity, and then the hand shifted and he felt cool finger tips touch his palm. They drew lazy circles and traced invisible lines. He could feel himself start to twitch. He could hear the slightest hitch in Spock's breath and for the hundredth time since he read it in some medical journal; he wondered what got Spock off about this. He had never thought of his hands as anything special, hell, more than once Jocelyn batted them away. They were worn and large. Hell, if he knew why surgery hadn't been too delicate for his fingers but her breast were.

With Spock their roughness didn't seem to matter. It was as if the man needed nothing more than the touch. The texture and the weathered-ness of his hands only added to the sensations. He pulled back from the kiss, gaze cloudy and wide. Spock was still twisting their hands together with a sort of intense concentration that had McCoy wondering if maybe Spock would need to change his pants. Goddamn handsy Vulcan.

But he was curious, morbidly so and yeah it felt fucking amazing to touch Spock but was there more to it? Was there some kind of technique to this Vulcan hand fucking? Undoubtedly Spock would make him figure it out himself. And just as predictably McCoy would resist. Did he have a rhyme or reason to his own stubbornness? He didn't know. That was the honest answer. It was the only answer.

Abruptly Spock's eyes flashed open and he stopped stroking; he even stopped breathing for a moment.

"You gonna come?" Leonard drawled his voice slow and drowsy.

Spock shifted, deliberately bringing his hand up to graze McCoy's collar bone. "Not here, and certainly not seven point three minutes before I go on duty." It was a flat, concise answer that left about three words unsaid but not unheard on Leonard's part.

He pouts for a moment, small and a little too similar to Jim's for his taste, but he gets his point across because Spock kisses him again. He can tell it's the last one, that even if he screams and tantrums-as seems to be his emerging habit- his way into a fight Spock won't relent. So he throws his back into it. He doesn't know whether the kiss is good because he's taking control of it or because the Vulcan is giving him something just shy of tenderness. He just doesn't fucking know, and he and Spock are a real fucking mess. Spock nips at his bottom lip and he knows the kiss is over.

He throws an arm back over his eyes because he doesn't want to see him stand and soothe his uniform. He doesn't want to see understanding or that goddamn raised eyebrow. He can feel his lips swelling slightly from the kissing; he knew they were red, warm to the touch. What would he have said to Spock? Certainly nothing new, nothing that would get Spock back beside him and kissing him again.

His arm slid for a second and he saw Spock in front of him. There was something untouchable about him in that moment and Leonard knew instantly that they had come full circle. Whatever Spock would say, he knew it would not be a reference back. The give and take that seemed to have created them could not hold them together. There were only so many ways in which Spock could tell him that but there were a thousand ways McCoy could refuse to hear him. And still he did not know why he was resisting. What difference did asking make? The whole world, he knew.

So he pulled his arm back over his eyes and threw up a Hail Mary that this, also, was not the limit.

And then softly and said as if through a sigh Spock spoke. "Leonard, for a man who has endless opinions on as many topics, you express yourself," he paused tucking his hands behind his back or maybe thinking. "You express your desires," he amended, "very poorly."

* * *

 

_Out of the fucking blue they found themselves a routine, and it was messy and secret and simple as peach pie. Spock seemed to fit into his life, his office without a moment's hesitation. And McCoy didn't say a damn thing. If suddenly his files were more neatly organized…If the temperature was just on the wrong side of bearable…_

_The Vulcan was like a goddamn rainy day without the humidity, and he could almost like the man as he let himself take comfort from the Vulcan. He could swear the middle seat was starting to look imprinted with the Vulcan's ass. Against his better judgment he let Spock make camp in his office. Now, he almost wasn't surprised to find the man calmly poring over new reports at_ _his_ _desk._

 _"_ _We're positively domestic," he said honestly._

 _"_ _Are we, Doctor?"_

_McCoy frowned and rubbed the bridge of his nose, "Whadya doing?"_

_"_ _Finishing my crew evaluations."_

 _"_ _You don't have your own desk for that?" His voice was sharper than he would have liked but he was also angrier than he had intended to be._

 _"_ _Would you like me to complete these in my own quarters?"_

 _"_ _What I'd like pointy ears is to find MY things where I left them, not filed away in your goddamn manic system." He turned his head away, tired suddenly. Safe in the knowledge that Spock could take anything from him. He heard footsteps though and cursed the elf for letting his temper scare him off. "Oh, sit down Spock. I don't mean anything by it."_

_Spock kissed him, firmly and without asking, bringing one slim hand up to cup the doctor's jaw. And he melted into it, releasing tension and a muted rage he was unaware of having ever acquired._

_Then Spock pulled away with this look on his face that seemed to say 'I can read you like a book' but he asked, "Better?"_

_Leonard snorted, glaring into the man's eyes. "Don't try to handle me, Spock. I'm not a goddamn child."_

_The hobgoblin actually cocked his head to the side feigning innocence before he reached out and smoothed the wrinkles between McCoy's brows. "It would be a frivolous endeavor to 'handle' you, Doctor."_

_"_ _Damn it you-"_

_When Spock kissed him again, Leonard kept yelling right into his mouth only submitting when Spock wrapped an arm around his waist dragging him forward and yes, McCoy understood that THIS kiss-soft and questing- was an attempt at handling him or at least shutting him up. He pressed himself more firmly against the Vulcan groaning when Spock fitted a knee between his thighs. Was he really that fucking easy?_

_He bit at Spock's lips in revenge for forcing his surrender but the bite turned to a gentle nip when the elf rocked his thigh up and into McCoy's semi-erect cock. "Spock," he ground out, "Jesus"_

_He pulled away and McCoy followed making a needy sound that embarrassed the hell out of him moments later. "Do you wish to converse in an adult manner now? Or shall I continue to kiss you?"_

_"_ _Now, wait just one damn minute-" but he got no further before his lips were locked with the Vulcan's once more, an urging, almost resigned sort of exchange._

 _"_ _That was not one of your options, Doctor. Either calm yourself and explain what has happened to upset you or I shall calm you ad then you will explain what has upset you," and lord McCoy felt himself both harden and bristle at being ordered around so obviously. Who the fuck was Spock to speak with him that way but… Christ he should have known that picking a fight with the Vulcan wasn't going to get him off the hook. Spock was too damn smart for that shit._

_For a moment he considered making this easier on them both and just telling him that he'd had a bad shift. Two nurses were sick with the flu and he thought maybe he was getting sick too. He could have told Spock that he was not looking forward to their next mission because it was a diplomatic one and diplomats were all idiots, idiots with a propensity to cause harm to Spock and Jim. He didn't say any of that though._

_He was in his forties and could damn well regulate his own feelings without the help of a nosy, overbearing, green-blooded computer. Instead he lifted his chin and told the Vulcan not to fucking order him around._

_In return Spock actually sighed and then more swiftly and with far more ease than Leonard would have liked to admit Spock had him pressed against his office wall. He grunted when his back made contact and moaned when Spock swiped his tongue along his bottom lip silently asking for entrance. He could have pushed him away and Spock would have gone but this was a hell of a lot better than the reports he had to do. This was better than just about anything he'd done in the last…forever, and the elf damn well knew it._

_That knee was still between his legs but there was also a hand at his hip just barely grazing the skin beneath his shirt. For God's sake, yes, he was perfectly happy to let Spock soothe him this way. He was man enough to admit that rocking against the Vulcan's thigh was one hell of a way to come, although he wouldn't say no to a hand._

_He gave the man's free hand a tug and Spock seemed to know exactly what he wanted because abruptly that hand was inside of his pants cupping his balls and thumb running over his slit. Oh lord. He bucked his hips and fuck, why was it a bad idea to come right here in his office. That hand was so hot and Spock was threading his fingers through the short brown hairs and moving to knead the inside of his thigh in a hypnotic rhythm. He spread his thighs and pushed his hips as far into the Vulcan as possible. Honest to God wind couldn't have whistled between them._

_"_ _Harder." His voice was a growl, deep and uneven, "fuck, faster."_

_His patience started to go in the fuzzy hazy that was a good hand job. McCoy put a hand on Spock's cheek and drew him into a lazy kiss, his sentimentality getting the better of him. But there was something else too, something about Spock's easiness at being used for his own release. It was so damn kind, so fucking like the dutiful robot._

_He felt himself sipping into a sloppy affection that only sex could bring on and Leonard brought one hand down to join Spock's. Together they fisted his cock, harder than he usually liked but- God yes just like that- he wouldn't complain. How long had it been since someone had touched him? Someone who cared?_

_He took control of the kiss again, still soft but more demanding, because he wanted to come and he was not a child for Spock to subdue and someone could walk in at any time. In those few seconds as he was trying to get more friction and his balls were just beginning to pull up Spock took his hand, their fingers tangling together. He couldn't shake the image of what they must look like from his mind: Spock tall and dark, leaner but still able to pin down Leonard's broad frame._

_Without meaning to he made room between them to maneuver his cock right against the bulge of Spock's pants. A strangled sort of mewl escaped McCoy's throat at the contact. The dual sensation of rubbing against the rough fabric and moving into their closed fist was all consuming, shockingly blissful._

_"_ _'m coming," he gasped and Spock pushed his thumb just behind his balls in one final caress before he was coming, the white streaks seemingly endless. "Christ." He slumped against the Vulcan mouthing at the man's neck and trying in vain to calm his goddamn heart rate down. Their hips continued their unhurried rocking. Spock had a sort of death grip on his hand, the long fingers caressing his palm, the tips of his middle and index finger._

 _"_ _I hate my damn dress uniform," he finally whispered and if Spock was fooled by Leonard's inane statement it was very briefly._

_He felt the tendons on Spock's neck shift under his mouth. "If you wish I can have you exempt from the Welcome Banquet?"_

_Leonard laughed. "Jim'll never let me live it down." Still he appreciated Spock's obtuseness, his kindly brushing aside of Leonard's dishonesty. He twisted his hips in an attempt to get away from the cooling wet spot and came into sharp contact with Spock's still very erect penis. "If we're gonna finish this I have to move Spock. I'm too damn old to fuck against a wall."_

_They didn't move, their hands continuing to move together. "We are not going to finish this, Doctor."_

_McCoy pulled away. "Why the hell not?"_

_"_ _I sought only to provide you with a release and improve your mood. It would be highly inappropriate to engage in-"_

_"_ _Oh, for Christ's sake, Spock. You still have your hand down my pants. I think we've moved past the point of appropriate._

_They looked at each other, not with challenge but McCoy sure as hell felt like he was being sized up. Finally Spock took several steps back bringing McCoy with him. At the couch he guided Leonard to lay down with a hand on his hip. He checked the windows and the door's lock before lying down to face him. He took his shirt off and brought his chest to McCoy's: a far more pleasant feeling without the wet spot. They took off from there, a triumphant energy flowing from McCoy. He flicked the buttons at Spock's fly open and thrust his hand down._

_The heat was incredible and absolutely inhuman. He had seen Spock naked before-broken and half dead with nothing between him and death but McCoy's years of trial and error-but touching, exploring without the feeling of violating his oath was a new world to him. And Spock was patient with him. He let him weigh his balls in both hands, heavier and denser than a human's. He trailed two fingers along the twin ridges on the underside of his cock: another difference. He made a loose fist and moved it along the head pulling the foreskin with each motion._

_Despite their activities bordering on exhibitionism, he vehemently wished for the body of a younger man, one whose refractory period was a touch shorter. He focused on Spock, darker than space in his arousal and so close to coming. This was because of him, Leonard recognized abruptly. A surge of power flitted through his chest; he could arouse a Vulcan. Spock rolled so McCoy was on top, grasping his free hand._

_"_ _This would do the trick wouldn't it," Leonard said, indicating their joined hands._

 _"_ _With no limitations upon our time, yes."_

_Leonard moved the hand on his erection more firmly and Spock thrust up hard, nearly bucking him off in the seconds before an arm wrapped around his waist. "If I end up on the floor I swear I'm never doing this again."_

_"_ _Do not make empty threats Doctor."_

_McCoy wrenched his hand free of Spock's as punishment and ran it over the tip of one pointed ear. The strangled groan that followed said he had proven his point. "More," he asked, confident and playful as ever._

_But Spock was arching up into him and a sticky wetness was filling his hand. McCoy spread his legs and gave the man a better angle to rock against him and at the last minute he brought two tapered fingers to his mouth sucking them fiercely. The look on the hobgoblin's face, tight and flushed an emerald color, was so pained with the effort of restraining his pleasure McCoy took pity on him and buried his face in the Vulcan's neck to keep from staring._

_They lay quietly, perhaps contentedly if it were any other two people. Spock broke the silence, soft but far more composed than Leonard could claim to be. "You cannot fall asleep in this position, Leonard."_

_He grunted: "My office, my rules."_

_"_ _You are lying on_ _my_ _chest."_

 _"_ _Semantics," he said with a sleepy drawl._

_Spock shifted them and yeah Leonard's hand was wet but he if he got up he knew this moment of peace, the brief moment when their world was allowed to fall away, would be gone. And fuck if he knew how to get it back. He didn't even want to try._

_He couldn't remember the first thing about affection except that sex seemed to be his only outlet for it. Angry he said, "Goddamn it Spock can't there be one single moment that you don't analyze? Can't you just sit here quietly without thinking a hundred steps ahead of us normal folks?"_

_"_ _I am not rejecting you," Spock said softly cutting directly to the-unspoken-point, "merely observing the impracticality of our situation."_

 _"_ _I just watched you come, you damn robot." He said it like it was the end all be all of their argument. And maybe it would have been if they had been having the_ _**same** _ _argument. They were not. He pushed himself up intending to escape because wouldn't that be easier than seeing Spock's impassivity?_

_The hand on his waist tightened into an iron bar encased in silk."What would you have me do to reassure you?"_

_He did break away then and shuffled to the other end of the couch. He looked up at the elf only after he had straightened his shirt and tucked himself back into his pants. Yet, Leonard still looked fragile, hair tousled and cheeks aflame. "You're going to cost me my sanity, Spock, and because I know what's good for me I'm going to hold out as long as possible."_

_"_ _What is it you want of me," and it didn't matter that Spock was half undressed. He was still a hell of a lot more put together than Leonard. Leonard who couldn't fuck someone and just be their friend. Leonard who couldn't see that Spock was more emotionally stable than himself. "Damn it, I don't know."_

_Immediately, "Yes, you do."_

_"_ _Well then I would be much obliged if you could share_ _my_ _thoughts with me."_

 _"_ _I shall not make it that easy for you, Doctor."_

 _"_ _Of course-"_

 _"_ _No," Spock said and there was sharpness to his tone, something that flared McCoy's own temper. "This is not an issue of blame. Do not cling to the perceived injustice of my statement."_

_Leonard carded a hand through his hair, frustrated, "Okay. Let's try something else. What makes you so sure you know my feelings? Better yet, how can I not know?"_

_Spock lifted an eyebrow, perhaps annoyed, but more likely astounded at the doctor's capacity to elude. "No, we will not take that approach either. Of the two of us, I am the more patient. What is it you want Doctor?"It was so terribly simple and completely unanswerable, not just for Leonard but for any man who had forgotten what it was to have a companion._

_Spock continued: "Do you imagine your anger will abate over time? It this," he swept his arm mildly, so very human, "the routine in which you will be most happy?"_

_"_ _You tell me Spock. What the fuck am I thinking right now?"_

_The Vulcan stood righting his clothes without urgency. "This will be a nearly constant battle, Doctor, because you will not be happy."_

_"_ _That's nothing new."_

 _"_ _Do you mean to shock me?"_

 _"_ _I mean to be honest with you, not to play these fucking mind games."_

_Spock nodded, clearly done. "I shall see you tonight for dinner with Jim."_

_"_ _Why?"_

 _"_ _Why not?" Spock looked genuinely perplexed. "Are you under the impression that I wish to terminate the physical aspect of our relationship?"_

 _"_ _I don't know."_

_The robot accepted his indecision this time; he stepped up to McCoy and lowered his eyebrows. "I am not dissatisfied but you will be, very quickly, if you do not attain some measure of self awareness where I am concerned. I will not allow you to silently demand and expect me to interpret."_

_McCoy scolded and turned his head away but Spock caught his chin and kissed him with something bordering on contrition._

_Where McCoy was professionally sound, he was personally a wreck, pent up and constantly searching. Where was the limit? "I'm tired Spock," he said at last._

_"_ _Do you wish me to leave?" Ah, the first test of their new convention. No, was his first reaction and he wondered if Spock also knew that. He moved behind his desk and touched the screen to begin his own reports, still saying nothing. What was it about being asked his own feelings that forced his barriers up? Or was it not what was being asked but by whom?_

 _"_ _Leonard?"_

 _"_ _I sent your work to the PADD." If he left every decision to the computer would he end up alone in his office? Would his couch lose the annoying shape of a Vulcan? Fuck him for thinking he had the right._

_Spock sat crossing one knee over the other and watched Leonard for a moment before picking up the correct PADD. This, apparently, was not the limit._


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First: a single parent. Second: holding hands, hands in pants, pants on floor.

**_"Nothing is so strong as gentleness and nothing is so gentle as real strength."_ **

* * *

They found an Andorian child, maybe four or five years old, adrift in space. Her pale blue-green skin turned sapphire in the horrible cold. When McCoy touched her shoulder he thought she would shatter she was so frail. She was alone in an escape pod that was one good hard kick from falling apart. Instead it self destructed several seconds after they beamed the girl aboard. He didn't know the bounds of life and death for Andorians but God help him she may have survived through sheer force of will on both their parts.

He sat on the edge of her bed and stroked the hair from her forehead. She could have died. 

"Bones."

He turned slowly, lifting an eyebrow at Jim and Spock. He could  feel the divide between them, the silent rift that was still trying to be mended and was only made worse by this little girl.

"You made a decision yet?"

Jim frowned and took several steps away, towards McCoy's office, mutely demanding his doctor and first officer follow. He could see the lines of stress in Jim's stance, the bags under his eyes. No one ever said being a Captain was easy. He refrained from picking up a tricorder but just barely. They were stuck between a rock and a Goddamned hard place with nothing but hope and prayer holding them in balance. Spock looked rigid as if he was built of all the most unforgiving materials.

Jim sat in the middle seat of the couch and he flicked his eyes to the Vulcan: an eyebrow twitched, nothing more. He wanted to push Jim aside and shove Spock in his place because if they were going to settle down into a debate of morality and legality then at least they should start with the familiar. And Spock in  _that_  seat was familiar; it was Goddamn normal at this point.

Jim tossed his head into his upturned palms and there it was: the signal that the kid was finally ready to speak. He never postured for the two of them and no, he didn't start now. He scrubbed his hands over his face and when he looked up everything was written there so fucking clearly. All of the grief, the anger, his fledging but still very apparent, hatred for Starfleet regulations. He was suddenly very old.

"We can't keep her, Bones." Whether he said this to McCoy because the girl liked him or because he could not admit it to himself didn't really matter.

"I know," he said quietly because he did already know. A starship wasn't a place for a child; he had learned that lesson quickly and continued to learn it with shocking regularity.

"I don't know what else to do. We've broken about ten-"

"-eighteen," Spock corrected.

"-eighteen regulations keeping her here this long."

Leonard sat on the arm of the couch his back barely a foot from where Spock was standing facing Jim. "I didn't think we could," he said, "but she's been safe and cared for at least for a while."

"The Andorians are raising holy hell. They want her back and if not the whole crew is being threatened with aiding in a kidnapping. You'd think we were crossing boarders and running a smuggling ring." He sighed and pulled on a stray lock of hair. "I'm sorry, Bones." There couldn't be a more defeated sounding human being in all the galaxies.

If the whole thing weren't so precarious he may have taken Jim's hand for a moment. If their relationship, in this instance, weren't so clearly defined as Captain and Doctor, he may have offered Jim a drink and let him sleep it off on his couch. But he could see that Jim had not quite worked out his own feelings, and Leonard's easy acceptance of a situation that he was still trying to change was like a slap in the face.

"I wasn't holding out hope."

"Why," Jim asked sharply.  _Goddamn it._

"Because this is one hell of a dilemma." He could see where this was going. He could sense Jim taking the offensive, shoring up reasons to be angry and curt.

"Okay, yeah," he added absently, but then something else flared, harder and dangerous. "Spock seems to think we don't have the authority to keep her despite the signs of abuse you found."

He didn't have to turn around to know that Spock had stiffened or to know that something had broken between them. They seemed unable to push aside their pride and he was damn tired of it. He said again and hopefully with the proper amount of ease, "Jim, I knew she couldn't stay."

"But aren't you bothered?" The desperation in his voice lessened the insult of being asked. Of course he was bothered. He did the damn examination. He saw the deep blue bruises in the shape of hands. He had set a fractured wrist, and seen the girl flinch away from his hands in absolute terror.

"Don't Jim," he said finally. "I do what I can," and maybe that's why this girl was different than those colonist weeks ago. He had watched them commit suicide and been forced to participate in an odd way. This sweet little Andorian that he had saved and hugged and nurtured. For the briefest of moments he could forget that Joanna wasn't with him.

"She's not saved yet."

"I'm not in the business of bureaucracy. I'm a Doctor and when someone doesn't die I have to count my damn lucky stars."

"What's your point?"

McCoy shook his head: "I know when to fold, Jim."

Kirk snorted as if he could think of a thousand counter examples and hell he probably could. "We send her back and she dies."

"She will be killed as a warning to the other captive, not because she was returned."

Leonard thought it was exactly the wrong time for Spock to make that distinction, but it was valid and gave them a measure of relief from the blame they felt in the girl's future.

He saw Kirk's face shift and edge into lines of complete revulsion. It looked as if he would throw something, someone. "That's disgusting, Spock. She's not a statistic. She was five years old and unconscious when we found her. If she had been awake do you think she could have refused our help?"

"Yes," Spock said flatly. 

Leonard closed his eyes for a moment and breathed deeply. He could not push away the vision of the girl, small and timid, being selected for someone's pleasure. He pursed his lips, revolted by his own imagination, but the abuse inflicted on the girl would not go away. He bowed his head fighting the urge to vomit.

"Bones?" Jim's tone had changed again. The animosity was gone and replaced by worry, confusion.

He held up a hand, closing his eyes briefly. He could feel a more solid heat, closer to him than Jim, and knew Spock was there. "She was dead the moment she tried to escape."

"Regrettably," Spock said from a point directly behind him. He wanted badly to lean back and rest his head against the flat plane of Spock's stomach, to close his eyes and have the man trace the knots of his spine.

"So that should be the end of it," Jim asked, his tone ringing with accusation.

"Oh damn it, Jim. I don't know what to tell you." He stood moving to his desk pushing PADD's aside, anything to keep his hands occupied. "I didn't think I'd be treating kids out here. Christ, I never wanted to go into pediatrics." What he didn't say was that his heart was too easily broken to deal with children. He just couldn't take a constant reminder of what he'd lost.

"I'm not giving up." It was said without bravado but Jim managed to make the statement sound confident.

"I hope you don't," McCoy said.

 

 

Leonard worked the gamma shift to keep an eye on the girl and to avoid being alone, but when she fell asleep and he read the same paragraph three times without comprehending he knew leaving his office was unavoidable. He walked towards one lift and changed his mind part way to another. Finally he stopped and really thought about where he wanted to go.

Spock answered on the second chime. He was stark and harsh in the shadow of the hall light, and McCoy blinked at the sight before him because it was beautiful and unexpected.

"Were you sleeping," he asked but obviously he was. On one side Spock's hair was curled up slightly as if the pillow had flipped it up, and he was wearing loose drawstring pants with a button up shirt left undone. Leonard shifted nervously, stunned. It was one thing to make demands on Spock's time when they were in his office. That constituted a certain consent on both their parts, but he had come here and was being intrusive. He rubbed his eyes, "We'll talk tomorrow. G'night, Spock."

"We will talk now," and he moved inside and waited several beats for Leonard to follow him. When the door closed they stood in the dark. Leonard's eyes settled on the place Spock should have been. He stepped forward, stumbled and felt hands on his hips. "Lights, five percent." Spock's voice was low and nearly hissed into his ear they were so close.

He edged a step closer and breathed deeply into the Vulcan's neck. Spock did nothing, neither moving towards nor away from him. He could make him react. He was getting the hang of being direct, demanding loudly rather than pleading quietly. "I don't know why I came here," he mumbled. "I looked like a damn fool in the corridors, pacing and doubling back half a dozen times.

"Doctor." Spock used the hands on his waist to rock them together. He felt like a Goddamn dog being rewarded for a good trick. But it was only half a reward for a trick half done.

"I want to sit here and not talk about the little girl or death. I want you to tell me what's got you and Jim acting like apples and oranges."

Spock raised an eyebrow but McCoy didn't look up to see it. "How does fruit have any bearing on this discussion?"

"Are you stalling?"

"Perhaps," and his face was drawn for an instant but the light was so low…Spock sat on the couch and looked up at Leonard with his eyebrow in the air.

He settled himself beside the elf rigidly, their thighs only just touching.Hhe could feel the intense heat that was Spock. He reached for his hand, held it between both of his larger ones for a moment before letting it drop back into the Vulcan's lap. He looked straight ahead. "Lights off," he said to the ceiling. He took Spock's hand again and interlaced their fingers. He rested his cheek on Spock's shoulder, closing his eyes. "Start talking," he said quietly.

"A disagreement gone awry."

"Seems like all out war." McCoy turned his face to kiss Spock's clothed shoulder.

"That is a gross exaggeration of the situation, although it has escalated somewhat."

Leonard smiled in the dark, lazily and completely unseen by the Vulcan. "Did he say something stupid that you just had to correct? Did you say something insensitive? You know that last one's more likely." He chuckled knowing Spock could feel it.

Spock allowed McCoy to explore his bare chest guiding his hand with gentle touches. "The answer to both of your questions is yes. Though this is not a recent argument but rather on that has festered over time. Oh-"

Spock tensed as McCoy's hand slide beneath the waistband of his sleep pants. "You're hedging, Spock."

"Doctor," he rocked his emerging hardness into the warmth of the McCoy's palm. "I am at-attempting to provide you with all of the relevant facts. You do still wish-Ah-"

Under the doctor's hand Spock spread his legs and thrust up forcefully. "I really do want to hear Spock but right now I'm sort of preoccupied with getting you to come in your pants."

Leonard rested his forehead against Spock's, wondering if Spock had his eyes open. When the Vulcan came it was a wet burst in McCoy's hand and a sigh onto his cheek. Later, after Spock removed his pants and placed them into the recycler and Leonard had taken off his over shirt leaving him in a thin black tee; they sat on the couch again. Spock was pantless and McCoy couldn't help but trail his fingers over his lightly haired thighs.

"What stupid thing did Jim say?" McCoy asked.

"The Captain's initial thoughts regarding the girl were to keep her aboard indefinitely. If he decided to notify Starfleet he hoped to mislead the Admiralty into thinking she was human. His logic was that if he could bring her to Earth or an outpost they would be less willing to part with her."

"And what insensitive thing did you say to him?"

I told the Captain he had a growing reputation of recklessness and so soon after the incident on Celistia it would be very irresponsible to  blatantly ignore Starfleet protocols."

"You're both idiots," McCoy said but he was tired and it wasn't as sharp as he would have liked. "Jim's desperate to get back some of the control that seems to slip away so easily and you're so Goddamn analytical. I thought you two were fixed," he said softly.

"I do not think it is that simple."

"I know." McCoy reached up, fumbling blindly in the darkness to touch Spock's face. He traced the outline of his lips and followed his fingers with his tongue. "Anger is always more acute with an audience, Spock."

"And you are my audience," he said returning the kiss.

"An audience for two."

They kissed slowly in the dark but under Leonard's hand Spock's neck was still tense. In the black hot room that was almost too damn warm McCoy felt immeasurably sad. Everything seemed to have come down right now, and the darkness was a tangible thing, hard and heavy on them both. Spock brushed his hand across McCoy's cheek, fingertips just grazing his temples.

"Spock?"

"Yes."

"You wanna go back to bed?"

"Yes."

He moved his head, not knowing if they were looking at each other, and felt their noses bump. "Can I stay?"

"Yes."

"I think I snore," he admitted, feeling Spock urge him up from the couch.

"I knowyou snore, Leonard."

* * *

 

_It hadn't escaped McCoy's notice that time spent with Spock in his office often ended in kissing and touching or arguing which was followed by kissing and touching. Still he couldn't've said how he ended up getting blown in his desk chair with a prim Vulcan bobbing up and down on his cock. He couldn't even get his mouth to form any words other than 'yes' and 'good' and 'fuck'. So he rubbed the tip of an elfish ear feeling Spock hum around him in pleasure. What the fuck were they doing? Spock's hand was doing something magic between his legs and Christ he was going to come._

_There was always something though and it was several seconds before either of them noticed the flashing red klaxon. The ship gave a sickening lurch tossing them awkwardly to the floor. In was almost comical: them falling and McCoy's eyes flickering open then shut in pain as Spock's teeth grazed him, and Spock nearly choking on his cock._

_Together they flailed out wildly trying to steady themselves, their bodies teetering on the cusp of arousal and bemusement. The tie was broken when McCoy tumbled from his chair his head colliding with the edge of the desk. His vision went black briefly; he stretched blindly searching for Spock with one hand and pressing a palm over his eyes with the other._

" _Spock," he called and he couldn't keep the slight edge of fear from his voice._

" _I am here. Are you injured?" A hand touched his own reassuring him then moved to the side of his head. He blanched at the crimson streaking the Vulcan's fingertips._

" _It's just a scratch," he tried lamely. Within the chaos there was a flash of normalcy. Spock raised an inky eyebrow and McCoy glared, refusing to believe he could be hurt._

" _Get up, Doctor." Spock was brisk with him, maneuvering and guiding until they were both on the couch and Spock could clearly see his head. "Dress," Spock commanded quietly and he stepped out of the office._

_There was a crash of glass hitting the unforgiving deck plate and then a rush of incoherent words. The elf reappeared and Christine almost pushed him into a wall in her haste to examine McCoy. She gave him this look like he was a sick puppy, her eyes going wide._

" _Oh, hush, Chris, it's nothing serious." This McCoy was familiar to her and she looked pacified. He glanced back at the door, ignoring Christine's description of what she knew about the red alert. Spock was there, unruffled and emotionless. Their eyes met and Leonard shot Spock one last look of vulnerability before his face closed, and he was abruptly just as impassive as the robot. He watched Spock leave, his stride so damn measured it didn't look like he was in a hurry at all._

 

 

_Whatever had rocked the ship happened twice more, each one more violent and he caught Chris on the first and several vials on the second. He resisted the urge to slam his hand into the comm. and demand Jim watch where the hell he was steering this rust bucket. The crew trickling in were shaken and he was grumpy. His head ached and he could now look forward to a heap of paperwork. He moved on to another bed, an ensign with a long gash along his arm._

" _Bones, get up here," the connection ended before he could even look up. Damn impatient kid. He passed the ensign off to a nurse and made his way towards the bridge._

_On the bridge he didn't know what the hell he was supposed to be seeing. The view screen was bland with the typical expanse of bright stars, and then there was a flurry of action. A dot of light was exploding on the screen. Jim was spinning rapidly, ordering the ship away from the show. He was shouting at Spock for details and mashing his hand into the comm. "Did you get it, Scotty."'_

_There was a long uncomfortable pause. "Aye," Scotty said._

 

 

_It was a five year old girl and as soon as McCoy knew that he was booking down the corridors with Jim and Spock a lift behind. She was crumpled on the transporter pad, moaning with silvery tears dripping down her cheeks. Scotty was taking tentative steps towards her only to jump back when the child began to scream. McCoy waved the engineer away and held up his palms to the girl. His head was on fire and thank God she stopped screaming. He spread his palms toward her. The tears didn't stop but she tilted her head at him. Her long white hair slid to reveal two blue antennae. He took a few more steps towards her; she shifted away into the corner._

" _Hey, hey," he said. His voice was kind, soft, "None of that. I'm not going to hurt you. I wanna take a look at that arm of yours." He pointed to his own arm and smiled. She followed his lead. A few more steps and he was sitting on the edge of the transporter pad. He beckoned with his whole body, "Will you come over here, baby girl." She shook her head and did a shoulder lift. "Please, honey. You're safe here." McCoy smiled again. She was shivering. Jesus, she looked half dead._

" _Bones," he hadn't heard them come in but the girl twisted around and huddled back into her corner._

" _Oh Goddamn it Jim. Pipe down and give me a minute." He dropped his head into his hands. For his own sanity he needed this girl to come over to him and let him treat her. He pulled hard on his hair, working it into odd angles._

_He glanced back at the girl; she was staring at him, eyes wide and antennae pointed at him. "Baby, pretty please come over here and let me take a look at you." He didn't even know if she spoke English; he didn't know a damn thing about Andorians but here he was coaxing her to him and he was looking at her so hard he thought she would fall apart from the intensity. But she scooted closer, minutely but it was progress. "That's it," he smiled._

_He moved too, just a couple of scoots. McCoy reached out, hands still open, hiding nothing from her. She pushed out her lip and eyed his hand wearily. "I don't want to hurt you," he tried again because even if she didn't know what he was saying she seemed to understand his tone and mannerisms._

_She reached out to mirror him. He took her hand, so small and thin. "Get me a kit," he mumbled over his shoulder._

_She was watching him carefully examining his rough hand. She held it close to her face. "Safe," she repeated very slowly._

_Leonard looked at her, worried, "Yeah, baby, you're safe here," he said. She nodded slowly still holding his hand. He moved closer. She touched a finger to his chest, a question in her eyes. "I'm Leonard," he said. "Leonard."_

" _Leonard," she said pointing at him again._

" _Mhm," he brought a tricorder forward but she scampered away. "Okay, okay, the old fashion way, then." He held out his hands to her and she crawled into his lap looking around him for any more instruments. "Can I see your arm for a second darlin'?" He stroked her arm pushing aside the flimsy fabric._

_He was horrified, nearly too disgusted to continue. The whole arm was wrenched at an incomprehensible angle, black and yellow all over. When he lifted the edge of her shirt he saw how swallow she was. He counted her ribs, the skin taut, bruised. "Oh, Jesus."_

" _Leonard." McCoy met her eyes; she trusted him in a wary sort of way. It was a small miracle considering what she must have been through._

" _Wanna go on a field trip, little girl," he asked nodding to encourage her._

_He began to stand holding her on his lap, careful of her arm. As soon as she curled around him he remembered holding Jo like this. He remembered being so in love with her existence, her adorable curiosity. Could this girl be so different? Yes, he was older but the sensation of being accepted never failed to shock him. She peeked at Jim and Spock from the crook of his neck. "They're safe too," he whispered into her hair. She made a sound that could have meant scared or safe but she pulled her head back to look at them._

_She said some quick words in a language he didn't understand and pointed to Spock. Her eyes found Leonard's and she pointed again. "Spock," he said to her. "That's Spock." She held up her tiny blue fingers to him and looked expectantly between them. Amazingly he touched the tips of his own fingers to hers._

" _Safe," she said again. Without a doubt Leonard knew she would break his heart._

 

 

" _Where the hell did she come from?"_

_They were gathered in his office and just on the corner of his desk he could still see the outline of blood that he had not thought to clean up. He wanted to drink and sleep but instead he was leaning against his desk trying to figure out where the hell this kid came from and to whom she belonged._

" _During routine long range scans we picked up a life sign in an escape pod."_

" _There was no distress signal," Spock added._

" _So we should have left her?"_

" _We did not know the life sign belonged to a female."_

_Jim sighed, "Are you trying to make this difficult?"_

" _I am not, Jim, but by rescuing the girl we have placed ourselves in a difficult position. The Andorians have always been a hesitant ally of the Federation. It is unwise to interfere in personal matters."_

" _She's just a little girl, Spock." The Vulcan looked at him, his gaze unreadable but McCoy still wanted to see something. He knew, though, that even if they could save this one child there_ must _be so many more like her; they could not save them all. It went against everything he believed in to turn this girl back over to the Andorians. It made him feel ill, and he couldn't push any of it aside, not his anger, not his immense grief, none of it._

" _She may just be a child but she is not the only child, Doctor. We must inform Starfleet Command." He sounded weary and Leonard suspected this wasn't the first time he made this suggestion of Jim in the last couple of hours._

" _What if no one's looking for her?" Jim asked._

_It was McCoy who snorted and shook his head. "Jim, the kind of people who do," he paused unable to say it, " that  to a child could never allow her to escape. They're looking."_

" _I'm-"_

" _Leonard." Years of staying up with Joanna and chasing monsters from under her bed had honed his ears to a child's cry and it seemed to effortlessly come back to him._

_He sat on the bed with his back to the world, Spock and Jim. "Hey baby girl," he grinned at her, and his heart leapt a little when she smiled back at him. He told himself again: they could not keep this child._

 

 

_McCoy had a shadow, small and blue with long white hair. She didn't say more than their names, occasionally, but he felt her presence everywhere. He couldn't shake the little girl even to sleep. He had forgotten the details of child rearing. Children were wild; they wanted entertainment and this child in particular wanted to be protected. She wrapped herself around Leonard despite his valiant effort to remain aloof. For the first few days he had a hell of a time even going to the bathroom without her whimpering at the door. Having gained her trust, he seemed unable to extract himself from her._

_Jim still hadn't decided anything and McCoy sighed as he walked towards his quarters. The little girl swung their clasped hands as they walked. Without all of the bruises and with regular meals she was a beautiful girl and a complete wonder to him. The last time he had seen an Andorian he was too damn busy trying to save two stubborn Vulcan's to notice them. He pointed to the comm. And she reached up to ring it. "Come in," they heard._

_Spock was standing across from Jim's desk, more inflexible than ever. Jim had this terrible look on his face. Jesus that look said Death and War got together and were in cohorts on some devious plan. He felt the girl press against his legs, sensing danger. "Leonard," she whispered._

_He touched her shoulder, pushing her behind him more fully. Whatever he had missed didn't matter to him right now. What mattered was the child trembling against his leg. "Finish this later," he said gruffly. Their spell was broken and they both turned to him and the girl._

" _Has she spoken yet, Doctor?"_

" _Not a word, pointy ears, but she knows which ways up. Don't ya, sweet pea?" She smiled as he piled his accent on thick and swung their arms._

" _Maybe we should give her a name?"_

" _Jim-"_

" _Inadvisable, Captain," Spock said and for once the two of them were in agreement._

" _Well-"Jim stopped and looked at Spock. Something passed between them, more than anger. There was hostility and challenge in Jim's gaze and Goddamn it he thought this was over._

_Then Spock spoke, "Am I dismissed, Captain?"_

" _Yes, go," Jim said with asperity._

_Leonard ignored Jim's anger for a moment and turned to Spock. "There're reports in my office for you and," he tugged on a lock of white hair," this one made you a drawing." That was just about as close to' please wait for me' as Leonard could get, but he wondered if Spock would have too much pride to talk with him. Had the situations been reversed he would have pouted. But Spock was not him. He shrugged his shoulders giving the elf a resigned look. "Brats, both of you," he mumbled knowing Spock's Vulcan ears would hear._

_Their little Andorian lifted her fingertips to be touched and Spock obliged. He felt something swell in his chest. Jealousy, he realized. The girl could offer and have affection given to her freely. She did not have to worry about rejection or revealing inner secrets. They already knew everything about her. What did Spock know about him, or better still what did he know about Spock? The two of them made his head hurt sometimes, late at night when he couldn't sleep but was too damn headstrong to find Spock. He wanted-he wanted to take away his insecurities and be young again, like this little girl with Spock right now._

_Spock straightened, met McCoy's eyes and nodded. Then he was gone._

" _Don't ask, Bones," Jim said shooting him a fierce look._

" _I'm not a mediator," McCoy scolded._

" _Then pick a side."_

" _Stop it, Jim. We all like her. Christ. I can't get rid of her and I don't want to."_

" _What the fuck am I suppose to do?"_

" _Jim," he said nodding his head at the little girl._

" _Sorry, sorry," he mumbled, smiling at the girl._

_She looked up at Leonard, frowning. He pointed her to the sofa and handed her a PADD. "Just for a few minutes. Okay, baby?"_

_When she looked absorbed Jim said, "Do you think she understands?"_

" _Maybe. She's knows I'm safe, that she's safe here."_

" _You're doing a good job with her. Does it remind you-"_

" _Come on, Jim." His tone was hard and the girl looked up at him fearfully. He forced a smile. "You can't keep putting this off."_

" _You sound like Spock."_

" _Once in a blue moon even the elf has a sound idea."_

" _And you agree," Jim asked with a touch of levity._

" _I agree that you have to either tell Starfleet or...Hell, the only or is keeping her cooped up and wishing on shooting stars that the crew stays quiet."_

_Jim gave him a glare, which clearly said the sarcasm wasn't appreciated. "You've been so helpful, Doctor."_

" _I have been helpful, Jim. You just don't want to hear it. And I suspect you didn't like what Spock had to say either."_

" _Don't worry about it Bones."_

_Jim-"_

" _I said don't." He met McCoy's eyes with a hardness that surprised him. Apparently it couldn't be so easily breezed over. He could read Jim, had always been able to read the man, but right now he didn't want to know what he was thinking. He rubbed the back of his neck, annoyed._

" _You of all people should know that playing devil's advocate is his job."_

" _It's not his only job though, Bones. There are times when I need something more than a well reasoned list of facts."_

_McCoy looked away. Finally he said, "Why him and not me?"_

" _You mean why should I stay angry at him for doing what you always do, and with such flare, I might add," he said bitterly._

" _Yeah."_

" _Because he counts my mistakes."_

" _Then don't let this be one of them."_

" _How?"_

_He shrugged, "There's a reason I don't want to sit in the big chair. I stave off Death. You're the one that goes ten rounds with him."_

 

 

_The little girl fell asleep while he was talking with Jim, a soft, light weight against his side. He carried her back to sickbay. "Hey," he said softly to the Vulcan on his couch._

_Spock glanced up at him and maybe his eyes looked kinder. "Hello, Doctor. I hope your discussion with the Captain went well."_

" _You know it didn't," he said annoyed and shifting from foot to foot._

" _Then that makes two of us."_

_McCoy sank down beside him, settling the child on the hip opposite the man. "I haven't held a child in fifteen years."_

" _She suites you."_

_He gave Spock a funny look but the man wasn't looking at him. He flicked his thumb across the PADD in his hands. McCoy laid his head on his shoulder breathing in Spock's clean scent. It was a fantastic smell that was taking him over, engulfing him and God he never wanted this simple relaxation to end. He pressed his face into the bony shoulder, the girl's wispy hair tickling his face. It was easy and soft and he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. He felt fingers thread though his thick hair, stopping on the now fully healed cut where only a pale pink line was visible._

" _That could have been a better day," Leonard mumbled._

" _Indeed." He set the PADD aside and folded his hands together. "You have grown attached to her."_

" _Oh, please Spock. I just went round and round with Jim. However I feel about her I know that we're on a slippery slope here. God damn it, I'll deal with it in my own way."_

" _Is that way alcohol?" Spock asked._

" _For fucksakes," McCoy shouted, then glanced down quickly. The kid was still asleep. He reeled back as best he could with the girl in his arms. His face lifted from Spock's shoulder darkening with anger. "It's none of your damn business," he snapped._

" _Your health is of concern to me."_

" _I'll drink if I like, Spock." He sounded childish he knew. There wasn't any other way to say it and damn if he was going to try. This was ridiculous and exasperating and was he suppose to go on a lion hunt for Spock every time he felt like having a drink?_

" _I find it unsettling," Spock said quietly looking directly into his eyes._

_Leonard's heart broke in that moment. It broke for Spock and his silent plea and for the little girl in his arms who would never truly be safe. And it all made him want to drink more. "Haven't you ever wanted to forget?"_

" _It is a useless pursuit and to do so through intoxication is equally futile."_

" _Answer my question," McCoy whispered._

_Spock met his eyes and gave him a look that said Leonard already knew the answer. He did know, and he wondered why he ever asked Spock anything. "Look, Spock, I'm a human being. I can't turn that on and off. Count your blessings that I have a least some control over my vice."_

" _Drinking is only a result of your excessive emotionality."_

_Leonard shook his head. He wanted to be held. He wanted Spock to leave him the fuck alone about his emotions. "Well, I can't fucking turn that off either."_

" _I would never ask that of you."_

" _Spock," he said, "I think you've lost me and it's too damn late for whatever discussion you think we're having." He struggled to his feet with the girl on his hip._

_He tucked her into a biobed and watched her sadly. When she slept there was no trace of the underlying fear in her face._

" _You have not been sleeping well," Spock asked from behind him._

" _She has nightmares. She won't let anyone touch her and they call me anyway so-"_

" _-so you sleep in your office," he finished._

" _Don't sound so fucking judgmental. It's what parents do, you overgrown goblin."_

" _You are not her parent."_

" _Yeah, well, they're doing one hell of a job. I'll remember to shake their hands when we give her back. Jesus Christ Spock."_

_When McCoy looked at Spock he saw patient deference, because the damn elf was waiting for him. He searched the depths of his mind and could almost hear the Vulcan asking him,_ _What is it you want?_   _And the truth was his wants and needs and obligations were buried and long forgotten._

" _Do I surprise you, Spock?" He asked abruptly._

" _Consistently. You are unique."_

_McCoy kissed him carelessly because suddenly all he could think of was them, almost a week ago, and he wanted to replace that memory. He pulled Spock against him, his hands stroking the Vulcan's sides. He had gotten so damn used to touching and being touched that a week without seemed to be killing him. He thought exhaustion would quell his arousal but somehow it made it sharper. He wanted to press all along the man and stick there. He manhandled Spock into his office, letting the elf's solid weight fall on top of him. Their hips rolled together but without any real need to reach completion. Everything caught up with McCoy and he remembered when he was a young man and sex would have beat sleep every time. Leonard's eyes fluttered; he really couldn't keep them open and if Spock was offended it didn't show._

"' _m tired," Leonard mumbled against the Vulcan's lips, following his words with a tender kiss._

_Spock shifted off of the Doctor leaving him sprawled with one arm dangling to the floor. He touched the back of his fingers to McCoy's lips. "Goodnight, Doctor."_

" _You going to bed," he murmured. His eyes were gray in the dim light, his voice heavily accented with fatigue._

" _No, I have several reports to finish."_

" _Too Goddamn efficient if you ask me."_

_McCoy's hand was lifted onto his chest, a slim finger tracing along his knuckles. "Sleep well, Leonard."_

 

 

**Forwarded Subspace Message to the Senior Staff of the U.S.S Enterprise via Captain James T. Kirk:**

**Orders to James T. Kirk, Starfleet Command, Office of Intergalactic Relations:**

**In regards to the aforementioned cargo: Asylum granted. The cargo is to be taken to Star base 116. All relevant files are to be made available. All personnel with pertinent information are to complete comprehensive reports. An investigation will commence upon receipt of documentation and cargo. Effective immediately.**

**Authorization: Admiral Christopher Pike.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More than a kiss, God willing.

McCoy kept a picture of Joanna on the corner of his desk. When it was taken years ago it was a novelty, old fashion and printed in black and white. He and Jocelyn had laughed at its silliness. Now it was a kind of muted hope that not everything was related to the cold harshness of space.

He barely noticed it anymore. It frightened him to know that the little girl in the picture was a teen now and growing up without him. But he was the one who left, who thought that maybe the unknown was the place for him. Now, he picked it up carefully and traced the simple black frame made of some combination of materials he felt more comfortable not knowing.

He looked around lazily wondering if Spock had touched this frame. The hobgoblin was certainly in his office enough. It wasn't like Spock to snoop though, unlike McCoy who pawed through every little thing that Spock left behind. It was his damn office, his sickbay.

Jo was smiling in the photograph, her long blonde hair a messy halo around her arms and shoulders. She looked so much like Jocelyn. He had been so worried after the divorce that he wouldn't be able to stand it. Jo’s smile though was radiant, and miraculously free of resentment.  He held onto that felling as best he could and sometimes he was drowning and that smile was all he had to save him.

He trailed his thumb over the sharp point of the frame. He missed the little Andorian girl, her almost-but-not-quite-the-same smile as his daughters, her bright eyes, and the way Spock seemed to soften when he looked at her. It all tugged on his heart too hard to ignore.

He kicked away from his desk and scattered the PADDs to the floor. He regretted it instantly but didn't pick them up. With a sick twist of his wrist he turned the picture face down. Around his office there were small reminders of the child, of Spock and his silent presence: a PADD on the shelf that was full of the girl's various drawing, his two day old uniform folded neatly on the opposite chair, stacks of colored blocks-a Vulcan toy that Spock had replicated- tiny finger prints on the metal edge of his desk. It was all so damn in place. He felt like it belonged. He tossed the uniform to the floor, the PADD followed and the blocks were kicked to every corner of the room. His eyes settled on the bookshelf, neat and alphabetized and separated into his real books and Spock's PADDs.

He didn't know why, maybe because he knew Spock would have the whole office cleaned before he returned. Maybe he hated how easily Spock adjusted to him. Mostly he was sad and he didn't know how or at whom to express it. His emotions were always so close to the surface and he was always confused about which of the nearly constant flurry of them in his head needed to be expressed first. He pulled viciously at the shelf, tugging and snatching until every item was on the floor. He couldn't even see the deck plate when he marched from his office.

 

"Leonard, please wake up." He blinked awake, his eyes wide in an exaggerated attempt to remain focused. He saw black knees and the plum cushion of his couch. He was in his quarters. He had come here after destroying his office, furious and wanting to get drunk. He shut his eyes again and buried is head in the crock of his arm.

"Whadya want, Spock?" He mumbled.  _Get out_  was flying through his mind.  _Get out, get out, get out._   _Get out and leave me alone and I'm still drunk and I'm allowed to loss control sometimes._

The couch shifted. He was being pushed up into a sitting position and Leonard felt a string of drool slide down his chin. He swiped at it. "We are expected to attend the festivities on the planet in thirty-three point seven minutes. Please remain upright," Spock added when he grunted and made to lie down again. He cut his half-lidded eyes to the Vulcan; he was already dressed in his stuffy dress uniform, only it didn't look ridiculous on Spock. On Spock it was elegant and made him look handsome, regal. He shook his head then stopped, pain exploding behind his temples. He fisted his eyes rubbing the sleep from them.  _Christ._

"Hand me the hypo in the nightstand." His eyes closed and his head hung between his shoulders. A stiff tube was pressed into his hand. He went through the motions of injecting himself and waiting those painful seconds before relief came and his vision steadied.

Spock was watching him when he looked up. It was not a look of acceptance or resignation or uneasiness. There was foreboding and coldness in the gaze that instantly put McCoy on alert. He edged away from Spock, ready for a fight, ready to start a fight.

"You will not use alcohol in this manner again. It is unprofessional and detrimental to your health. I do not wish to have this discussion again."

Leonard starred, opened mouth and stupid looking but when his mouth could form words again they were not kind ones. His brain had too many insults to speak all at once and he stumbled over each curse, each crude phrase. What came out was a combination of "yougreenbloodedbastard" and "howdareyouordermearound" but all of the words were mashed together. His accent made it all incomprehensible and that made him all the more furious.

Finally he managed, "What the fuck do you know about losing a child?" This wasn't what he should have said but exactly what he was thinking. Self-pity was the only thing he was still allowed to have. He was out of breath and Spock was calm. He was red and gasping and Spock was still sitting by his hip, looking stern as if Leonard had not truly gotten the point of what he had said. "Are you even listening or are you so wrapped up in scolding me like some out of line school boy?"

"Your behavior is out of line; this is not a debate. I do not pretend to understand the range of emotions you must be experiencing but becoming intoxicated in the middle of a shift is unacceptable. You know this." It was such a condescending statement that Leonard felt inclined to snort or even give a derisive laugh. He did both.

"You telling me this as my fuck buddy or my commanding officer?"

Spock raised an eyebrow, the disgust with him so plainly written there he marvelled that the Vulcan didn't explode from the expressiveness. "I do not appreciate being referred to in those terms. It is both inaccurate, as we have not engaged in penetrative sexual intercourse, and degrading."

"CO, then?"

"You are being deliberately obtuse."

McCoy pushed himself up from the sofa and stomped across the room to the bathroom. Spock followed and he shut the door in his face. (It didn't slam because Starfleet doors never slammed. They slide and that was just damn annoying. How was a guy supposed to make a point?) He scrubbed his face hard making his hands and cheeks pink. He brushed his teeth and peed.

When he hit the button to open the door Spock was standing calmly several feet away. His hands were tucked behind his back as if nothing was wrong. Everything was wrong though. His head hurt from yelling and stress and Spock giving him that bland look. "What do you want from me Spock?" He leaned into the doorframe running his hands through his hair. It was a hopeless mess that he was lucky to get laying flat even for an hour let alone for a whole festival.

"I want you to consider your actions more carefully."

"Oh, is that all?" He shrugged and held up a hand to stop Spock from speaking. "Sometimes I consider them and still make the wrong choice. What does that say about me, hm?"

"That you are human and prone to illogical decisions."

Leonard didn't have the heart to get offended. He was right. He was prone to making every irrational choice in the book. "You look good in your dress uniform," he said instead, "handsome."

"Thank you," Spock said and it seemed that the subject could be forgotten for the time.

He tugged off his blue over shirt, and the black one beneath. "Did you do that?” He pointed to the perfectly laid out uniform.

Spock nodded once, his gaze still neutral. "I toss every Goddamn insult I can think of at you and you just let it bounce right off. Jesus Spock." He undid his pants and tore off his boots. Age was thinning him and he looked scrawny in front of the mirror.  _I look like death warmed up and this damn get up isn't doing me any favors._  He carded his hair once more before pulling on the starched slacks, leaving them open to tuck in his clean black undershirt.

Spock stood at the small view port to the right of his bed. Something was slipping between them. Their careful façade of bitterness and banter was falling into real dislike and actual ridicule. And because they were them all that negative was a positive. It seemed that once they acknowledged the unhappiness of it all they could begin again with this twisted game of yes/no/just fucking be nice to me already.

"I know nothing of losing a child." Spock's voice was smooth as if he had every intention of having a reasonable conversation, as if he had not chastened McCoy and was now quite ready to hear his complete thoughts on the subject.

"I don't want to do this," McCoy said. He arranged his lapels, scolding at the metals across his shoulder. He didn't need the whole damn planet knowing his medical history. He was just a doctor. "I don't," he repeated. His jaw tightened as he thought of more reasons to loathe the elf.

"You cannot even be honest with yourself." It was said quietly or at least said without judgment.

"Some of us need a little denial."

"You are not one of those individuals, Doctor. You too easily bury your pain for any amount of negation to be healthy."

"Does it feel good to know everything, Spock? Would you consider running sickbay for the next, oh let's say, forever? I could use a vacation." He moved to the bathroom wetting his hands so his hair would lay flat.

Without meaning to he’s let his hair get too long and now it stuck out at odd angles, curled over his ears in a decidedly unreglation like fashion. He has no hope of taming it. "Goddamn it. Goddamn it, Spock." Leonard leaned in close to the mirror, his elbows knocking the side cabinet and that just made him more ferocious with his hair. The way he was yanking at it chucks could be falling out. "Stop watching me make an ass of myself."

"Refrain from being an ass."

McCoy turned and gazed openly at the Vulcan. His hair was absurd and he just didn't want to fight about this. Not now before they were expected on a planet and expected to celebrate a partially successful conference. He moved towards Spock automatically, torn between wanting to boot him from his quarters and rest his head on his shoulder. He did an odd mixture of both.

He bumped the top of his head against Spock's chin. It wasn't affection and it wasn't hostility. He nudged again, harder because he was aggravated, and Spock allowed himself to be pushed back. He took one of the Vulcan's hands making big circles on his palms. His two fingers traced along the pad of the man's thumb almost idly: down the L-curve of thumb and forefinger so methodically it looked as if he were testing reactions. Spock neither encouraged nor refused the contact, but McCoy kept his hand moving. If Spock didn't like it then he was strong enough to push him away and had enough control not to hurt him.

"Did you even knock?"

"I rang the chime twice before I overrode the lock."

"You're so fucking arrogant. Do you know that? I don't need a babysitter."

Spock gave him that look like he thought otherwise but only nodded in response. "Please finish getting dressed."

McCoy snorted, a hard, loud sound meant to offend. He shoved past him and found both of his boots. They were soft and worn from extensive wear. He should order new ones but he was on his feet more often than not and breaking in a new pair was a hassle. He stomped forcefully to get his foot inside but better the boot than the wall or Spock.

"Ta-da," and he tried to put every ounce of sarcasm he could into those two syllables.

"I recognize that you find my actions presumptive but-"

"Your actions are always presumptive. Always," he said.

He was in the bathroom again because Christ he couldn't leave his hair like that and his eyes still looked bloodshot with those horrible bags under them.

"That is your perception." That calm voice was right damn next to him without being in his personal space at all.

"Well in this instance isn't mine that only one that counts?"

Spock moved then, pushing Leonard's hands away from his hair and down to his sides. "No," he said flatly. He ran his hands through the running water, shook them off and began to smooth Leonard's hair into place. For him it stayed. He patted, and parted his hair into perfect submission, so when he looked in the mirror again he was more respectable than he had been in ten years.

"I should redress just to ruin your handy work."

"Illogical. You will not be able to reproduce these results yourself. "

"Do you ever trip over your words, Spock?"  _No_. He was composed and the wires from his brain to his mouth never got crossed. It was a Goddamn tragedy. He reached up and touched the fringe of Spock's bangs: not one out of place. "I spend half my day resenting you." McCoy kissed Spock. It was all tenderness with just the slightest hint of remorse. He slid his cool hands under the blue uniform and even through a layer of thin black material he could feel the Vulcan heat, that characteristic warmth that was almost too much but usually just right.

Spock accepted his embrace; he accepted his kisses and the arms wrapped tightly around him, and McCoy was relieved. When Spock returned the kisses even more gently he was surprised. He sighed into the hot mouth, thinking that life should be less complicated.

"Your habit of insulting me and then seeking comfort is becoming tiresome."

"It's foreplay," he mumbled against Spock's lips. It was just barely a joke; he had meant it lightly, almost. He knew he had a habit of lashing out and Spock was an easy target. The easiest, in fact because he never reacted and that gave him fuel, an obvious motivation to grow furious beyond reason.

"It is a thinly veiled attempt to hide your own fragility."

"Stop it." He pushed at Spock's shoulders with real anger. He wanted to hurt him but it was impossible. He was human and weak by definition. He ended up stumbling backwards when Spock didn't budge. He caught the edge of the shower landing hard on his ass. And he stayed there, not wanting or needing to move. Had he been a child he would have cried. He would have jumped up and tried again. He would have found an object that could do real damage.

He was a forty something adult so he sat in the shower, dressed up with his hair combed and still slightly hung over. His big wide eyes looked at a spot on Spock's chest. He wanted to cry.

Spock moved closer and crouched in front of him. Before he could say one word though McCoy was haltingly righting himself and because he could and he knew Spock wouldn't expect it he pushed him in the chest and stood staring down at the hobgoblin. The action was so strikingly callous McCoy nearly laughed. Spock was looking at him with an eyebrow raised and if he thought he could speak without shouting he might have told him to wipe that Goddamn patient look off his face.

"Don't say one fucking word," he finally said. His voice was level; only the slightest waver betrayed his anger.

The robot nodded, stood in one fluid movement and exhaled softly. He took McCoy's hand and there was a rush of calm flowing into the doctor's body. It consumed him and he hated the Vulcan and could have kissed him. His anger was a tricky thing. It twisted and burrowed into him so that past and present misgivings wound together. There was a beginning but it was now lost. Spock was giving him an end. It was temporary and incomplete but he clutched the man's hand tightly.

"Okay." He pulled away sharply but it was not intentional. He wanted space, not to seem ungrateful. When his anger came back to him it was in waves and tainted with more prominent feelings of sadness, and loneliness. He knew without asking that Spock had pulled his deeper, more honest emotions to the surface.

"I drink to get rid of this."

"I am aware."

"You gonna do that every time?" He tugged the bottom of his uniform. It had to be time to go, or they were going to be late and Spock was never late.

"No. We must leave now."

"What did you just do?" It wasn't an accusation. It really wasn't but curiosity was edging forward, beating back everything else for a moment because despite Spock dancing around in his head- tossing around his emotions-he was interested.

"Doctor.” McCoy could hear impatience and something lighter coloring his tone. "If you are still interested after the festival I will provide you with rudimentary details. Please accompany me."

 

"That was a Goddamn waste of time." Leonard drank at the party and he knew Spock had watched him.

"It was a necessary aspect of diplomacy." They were moving down the corridors. Neither of them was leading the other but the doors to McCoy's quarters slid open for him and Spock followed seamlessly.

"It's a damn waste and a pain in my ass. We save some poor natives and then we get bitched at for breaking regs."

Spock only tilted his head as if having a conversation on protocols was pointless. He picked up a PADD and when McCoy glowered over his shoulder he saw numbers and letters that made his temples pang in sympathy.

He left him to it and began shedding his uniform. The shirt made it close to the dresser; the pants actually touched the recycler. Both boots were kicked under his bed along with the black undershirt. If Spock had been paying attention he may have been frustrated with his lack of orderliness. "What the hell are you buried in over there?"

"I am attempting to compile information on telepathy."

"Really?" McCoy pulled on an academy t-shirt and sweats that looked older than he was and Lord how many years since he was a cadet? He was never carefree, never really spirited, just unfailingly focused on his work and getting the hell away from Earth. "To explain that redirection thing?"

"Yes." He sat on the couch looking so at ease Leonard snorted. They were off in a very definitive way. Grumpy and logic didn't go together but here they were and here they had been for the past few weeks.

"Tell me then," he said through a mouth full of toothpaste. White foam sat at the corners of his lips and he wiped at it lazily. He wedged a shoulder against the doorjamb in a gesture that implied he was listening.

"Vulcans are capable of cycling through their emotional states; through touch the effect can be extended. Useful when dealing with our children before they have achieved mastery over their own emotions."

"So," Leonard leaned back into the bathroom spitting the foam out. "So, the kids can follow the parents through some sort of internal logic training as they grow up."

"Simply put."

"I'm not a Vulcan child, Spock." He didn't like what the hobgoblin was implying. He wasn't some irrational Vulcan that could be made to see logic. He was allowed to have emotions damn it.

"The method is not unique to Vulcans, Doctor."

"It's unique to humans. Running around in a person's head isn't natural."

"The physical-"

His door chimed and he didn't know whether now was the appropriate time for a Hail Mary or a damn it all. "Come on in Jim." It was funny how he already knew. He had almost known three hours ago when Jim still hadn't taken a drink but he was damn near bitchy at the young diplomats. He did know when Kirk had rubbed his neck hard enough to leave a handprint and spent forty minutes on the balcony watching stars he could name in his sleep.

In McCoy's quarters he looked like a giant. The space seemed to fill around him. He was a world unto himself. "What the hell happened to your office," he said by way of greeting.

"Stay out of my damn office," he grumbled finally rinsing his mouth.

"It's my ship." He fell onto the couch one leg dangling over the arm. "Hi, Spock, lecturing Bones on his poor social graces?"

"-my graces are fine-"

"-I am not. I am attempting to explain the basics of touch telepathy to him-"

Bones caught a funny look from Jim and why shouldn't Jim find them strange. He shrugged and today Jim would accept that because he had his own awkwardness to sort out. How do you apologize to a half man, half robot that mentally runs circles around you but can't grasp the logic of mistakes? Good luck, God be with you and pray for a miracle because Spock and Jim were the sort of forces from which even physicist ran.

When Jim showed up late and looking mopey Leonard knew he wanted to talk: talk and drink. He just wanted company and yeah Bones was grumpy but he was safe and half the time they were only exchanging twitches and shrugs in place of words. McCoy always knew though. He was getting to be an expert at reading the kid. This look, heavy and innocent, in his hazel eyes said that he felt alone because he and Spock were nearly back to normal but close only made a difference in horseshoes and hand grenades. He couldn't quite decide if the three of them sitting here together was crossing into uncomfortable or damn near unbearable.

"Drink, Bones?" It was said with such command and expectation that he had to smile and frown. He knew Jim liked to possess. He liked to claim people and places and objects as his and in that simple question he had taken McCoy, because they were old friends. Because he was still angry with Spock. Because it was familiar.

He looked at Jim with a mix of exasperation and tolerance. "You know where it is." He was waiting for Jim to get to the point and lord help him he hoped it didn't take a whole bottle of bourbon for the kid to spit it out.

"Long gone are the graces of a southern gentleman."

McCoy smiled, partially against his will but mostly because God made Jim for entertaining. "Brat," he growled.

Jim moved around his quarters with confidence that bordered on obscene. He found his one glass in the small cabinet beside the couch and pulled a tall bottle out from under his bed. It was mesmerizing and damn disturbing. He sank back down into his seat, close to Spock but deliberately far away. Spock gave nothing away. He sat quietly and observed the two of them with a raised eyebrow. Kirk held up the filled tumbler keeping the bottle for himself. It should have looked childish but on James Kirk everything looked good, even a half empty bottle that McCoy was tempted to finish himself.

He crossed the room and took the offered glass, acutely aware that he was being watched. Spock lifted his head, his fingers frozen over the PADD. He saw that look: the one that said 'NO' and asked 'really.' Jim's gaze was an invitation because he even knew that you waited for your host to take the first drink.

He met them both halfway. He took a large sip and let the glass hang from the tips of his fingers. They stared at each other and Spock ignored them both and honestly he should leave the two of them alone because clearly Jim wanted to talk to Spock. He lifted his eyebrow at Jim and tilted his head and Jim did a body shrug. Translation:  _Just fucking say something to him._  The response:  _Like what? What's he doing here anyway?_

Their careful exchange continued as Bones sat on the edge of his armchair and sighed theatrically.  _I've had enough of this._

Jim narrowed his eyes in a show of impatience and frustration.  _I don't know what to say_. He made a sound deep in his throat that was part resignation, part annoyance at being pushed and it caught Spock's attention.

He looked up only to assure himself that Kirk wasn't dying before returning to his PADD. McCoy clinked the glass against the metal of a bookshelf and Spock met his eyes. There was that damn 'no' again, but Leonard wasn't going to drink. He clinked the shelf again because he knew it would be irritating and he knew neither of them would put up with it for long. On the third clink Spock's shoulders tightened. On the forth, "Doctor, please." Well serves them right.

One more and Jim reached over and snatched the tumbler, "Christ, Bones." He frowned prettily and shook his head at the doctor. _I'm thinking._

He took a long swig from the bottle. McCoy kicked his thigh with his barefoot. "Use the damn glass."  _Think faster._

"Spock," Jim began and tossed McCoy the middle finger.

"Yes, Captain." He was completely placid, barely sparing Kirk a glace. And, no, this would not work if Spock didn't want to hear Jim's apology and hell Jim could turn on a little of that infamous charm.  _Could it work on Spock though, heaven forbid._  Tonight was turning into pandemonium in a bottle and he was damn well going to salvage some part of it. He glared, though neither of them was watching him.

Jim shuffled around reaching into his pocket, his hand in a fist when he removed it. "Here," he said offering his closed hand to the Vulcan.

"What is-?"

"-chocolate," Jim clarified. "It's from Earth. My mother sent it." He shrugged, "there's this fantastic shop she took me to as a kid and when she can she sends a box. Okay," he said with finality.

He began to open his hand and Spock extended his own. A small neatly wrapped square fell and Spock caught it. For a moment they all sat quietly. It would be just as easy for Spock to lecture on Vulcan physiology, but then he peeled back the elaborate wraping and ate the chocolate.

Leonard laughed and Jim joined him and Spock pushed the candy from one side of his mouth to the other. "Very pleasing," he said, "and most kind."

It was as close as they were going to get to 'I accept your apology'.

Jim smiled and it was brilliant and brighter than the damn sun. He huffed because they were stupid and they needed each other. He could drink with Jim and he could argue with Spock but he couldn't pull miracles out of his ass. He couldn't reason his way out of anything-let alone near impossible situations. He couldn't be them. He felt a sharp pull of something but pushed it away. Spock wasn't his and so what if Jim could charm anything that walked. Jim was pretty and clever but he didn't want Spock or he would have already had him. What he did want was this easy friendship that seemed so precious but fit them like heat fit Georgia.

Spock's tongue darted out to capture the last remnants of the candy on his lips. It made him want to find another piece. It made him wish Jim wasn't here and it made him wish he was wearing something besides thin cotton bottoms.  _Hypocritical Bastard._  But Jim was grinning like the damn Cheshire cat and Spock had turned his body inward slightly. As the chocolate melted so did their hostility. Hell if he could argue with that.

Bones kicked Jim again, twice as hard.  _You're welcome._

He turned that innocent smile on him, "Love you too, sweet heart."  _Thank you._

He glared at the pair of them. "It's like pulling fucking teeth with the two of you."

 

Jim and Spock naturally gravitated towards friendship with each other and it's how things should have been and he was truly relieved that their weeks of tension ended without the sort of amusing sappy gesture that only Jim could pull off. When it was clear that everything was going to be alright he had stood and pointed to his door, ordering them both out so he could sleep. He refused Jim's laughing and Spock's curious stares. In the pit of his stomach was something hard and long forgotten. He refused to acknowledge that as well. The pit wasn't gone by morning when he found them already in his office, his clean completely organized office.

"It's a wonder you could find anything in here, Bones."

The picture of Joanna was upright again, her smiling face staring directly at him. He wanted to touch it, to touch her somehow but they were light years away and when did he have the time? "Everything was exactly where I wanted it," he snapped.

"Okay, okay, grumpy bastard."

Jim's playfulness was infectious and annoying. But, more than anything it emphasized that Jim was the divide between he and Spock. They were connected because of Jim not in spite of him. He sighed at Kirk slapping his hands away from a pile of PADD's that he had no business touching.  _Play nice with each other._

 

"Goddamn it, Spock. I'm going to have a bald spot if you don't let go."

And it was weeks later and Leonard was letting Spock's cock fall from his mouth with a half aroused, half irate groan. The hand in his hair loosened and knuckles pushed against his temple for a moment. It was an odd sort of hiccup that seemed in place for the two of them. McCoy nudged Spock's thighs further apart as if he were not fazed. He shot him a lewd grin with his mouth full of Vulcan dick and Spock raised an eyebrow.

"Doctor-" McCoy hummed around him because he liked when the robot did it to him and he really wasn't listening. He caught the tail of, "-your emotions are quite…pronounced."

He stopped talking then or Leonard made him speechless. McCoy rubbed his hands up the inside of Spock's thighs. The skin was smooth and pale and had just the faintest twinge of green. He breathed deeply, turning his cheek so the stubble brushed the sensitive skin. A man could drown in the little sounds aroused Vulcan's made: sharp gasp that were hissed through teeth, moans trying to escape from lips pressed so tight they could have been a line, growls nearly snarled in the very back of the throat. It was all tempered by restraint and McCoy revelled in breaking him. He figured Spock thrusting into his mouth was as much control as he was ever going to get, so he took it and ran. He traced a finger under his balls and watched them draw up slightly.

Through half-lidded eyes Spock observed him, his fingers massaging McCoy's scalp mimicking the movements of his hands. The hand in his hair tightened and this time McCoy said nothing. He swallowed twice around the Vulcan, snaking one hand down to palm his own erection. His knees were on fire and honest to God it was a tossup between finishing Spock off and…

Spock made a sound, fierce and harrowing and then he was coming down McCoy's throat. The taste was unique, not human and maybe not Vulcan but he had no comparison. He did know there was more cum than the average human and drops settled on his chin making him look thoroughly debauched.

McCoy's head rested on a pale thigh as he flicked the buttons of his own pants open. He trailed a hand up drawing circles across the flat planes of Spock's stomach. Spock touched his shoulder in a gesture he took to mean stand up but he was too hard and this just seemed easier. He was so close and Spock was always so warm, warmer still with McCoy draped over him like a sack of potatoes. His breath was coming out in wet huffs on the Vulcan's thighs, and he was uncomfortable but damn it he had gotten this far.

He moved his hand quicker as if the world would drop away if he didn't get off in the next two minutes. Slim fingers stroked over his. He felt it again that slight pressure and then a rush of calm soothing. The ache in his knees lessened, dulling and he was moving his hand faster wanting to come right now. Right now.

He didn't give a damn that Spock was twisting his emotions-again. He could bitch about that later. Hell, he may even thank the pointy elf. Without the pain he felt a surge of lust. His mind wandered as his hand moved in a flurry. What would it feel like to be under Spock, or over him? To have his face pressed against a pillow and be gasping for breath and release?

He could see them arguing across a conference room and then fucking on the table. He knew Spock would be lecturing him, maybe on the unethically of them having sex on duty, or raising an eyebrow as he explained that anyone could walk in on them. He knew he would laugh because Spock couldn't not think even with his cock buried in McCoy's ass. But he also knew that alone in his quarters he would sometimes be furious. He knew that if and when they finally got around to fucking things would get worse not better. Sex wouldn't be simple, not for them.

His mind seemed to expand to accommodate Spock's thoughts; they were a haze and really just gentle caresses of images but damn the elf had an imagination. Or were those his thoughts bouncing around their headspace? He came hard, dropping his head with a thunk into Spock's lap. "Jesus, Spock."

"I was attempting to facilitate your pleasure."

"By digging around in my mind and dragging up every horny fantasy I've ever had?"

"You offered them to me. I merely provided you with an alternative point of view."

"Cheeky bastard." He gripped Spock's knee gently before pushing himself to his feet heading to the bathroom. He felt more than heard the elf follow him. "What's my mind like?" McCoy asked grabbing two towels.

"The brief glimpses I have had are-"

"-chaotic?"

Spock tilted his head. "No, that is overly simplistic. Your mind is…systematically erratic. Your wants and feelings and perceptions have their specific place yet there is such discord. It is exceedingly puzzling."

"That's us humans for you." Leonard laughed softly. It wasn't mockery, not quite. "How does it work," he finally said, "when you touch me- what? It's like a sensation or something. Not a feeling but more." McCoy's mouth turned downward as he thought, his brows furrowing together. "Why," he asked after a pause.

"Doctor, when you are calm you are rational, brilliant at times. I apparently am not a calming presence.

"You're Goddamn infuriating."

"Am I?" Spock asked. He lifted his eyebrow. "You try my patience at times as well."

"Good, Spock, someone has to. You're fucking unreachable. It's a damn relief to get anything from you." His eyes met deep chocolate ones and if Spock had said those things to him he would have been hurt, wounded. He was being cruel and the look he was getting told him that they both knew it. He felt an apology on the tip of his tongue but it wouldn't come out. He couldn't force his eyes away. "When you push my emotions around what comes out strongest?"

"Uncertainty," Spock said quietly.

"About us?"

"Among other things." They looked at each other steadily and it was ridiculous because these were his emotions and Spock shouldn't be able to comprehend them better than him. Damn pointy eared mind reader.

He dropped his towel beside Spock's neatly folded one. "Don't do it anymore. If I want to be angry then I damn well will. You don't get to handle my feelings. That's just," he shrugged, "it's just not what you do when you're with someone."

"Are we together, Doctor?"

"What the hell do you call this?"

"I do not know."

Leonard shook his head: "You missed the point."

"I doubt it," Spock said.

"Of course you do. God forbid I'm ever right."

"I will not redirect you emotions in the future. They are yours to feel in whatever fashion you so choose"

"Good." McCoy looked up at him, big blue eyes searching.

"I must leave now."

"Where," he asked and he sounded like a teenager. Spock could do whatever the fuck he wanted and he had absolutely no right to question him.

"I have accepted Jim's invitation to play chess. "

He felt that pull again and it twisted and hurt but he shoved it down forcefully. Lately it was becoming a knot that never seemed to come untangled. Spock must have seen this part of him. He had to know that there was a small piece of him that hated them both. He was sorry for that.

"Okay," he said. He did not frown; he did not turn away in frustration. He did walk Spock to the door. He did lean up and kiss him lightly on the lips and when Spock moved to cup his jaw and forced their eyes to meet he stepped back. When he imagined the elf was far enough down the corridor he struck out with his open palm. There was a dull echo of flesh hitting metal.  _Fuck._

 

* * *

  _Bless Jim's heart they took the long way back to Starbase 116; he turned three days into three weeks. It still wasn't anywhere near enough time to try and distance himself from the little girl. She was going to leave, off to some suitable Federation planet and that would be the end of it. Jesus fucking Christ how many times did the universe have to remind him that life was unfair before he got the memo?_

**_One, "Jesus Christ Spock, I don't want any more covers. I'm on fire."_ **

_He hadn't slept with another person since the fourth year of his marriage but he hadn't wanted to go back to his quarters and he didn't want to sleep in his office in sickbay. Any idiot on the whole ship would know to call him if the girl woke up so for one night he felt safe being away. He stripped down to his boxers and slid in beside a very naked Spock. He turned on his side, thinking about how close they were and lord he couldn't remember the last time he slept in an actual bed instead of his office. And he was warm and…safe._

" _Sleep well, Doctor."_

_He reached out wanting to touch the disembodied voice. His hand connected with an arm which he stroked and then he was asleep._

_The chronometer said three a.m. and he was hot and had his face pressed against Spock's shoulder. He didn't move. He wondered if Spock was awake._

_The chronometer said four forty-five and he moved to the sofa, stumbling out of bed with a thump. "Doctor?" He woke Spock._

" _Go back to sleep," he grumbled._

_It was five seventeen and he was cold, damn it. He was covered in goose bumps and cold sweat and he was irritable, clammy. He shuffled back to the bed and wrapped himself around Spock. "Don't you huff at me," he snapped._

_It was sevenish and the lights flared brilliantly for about five seconds before he felt Spock shift beside him and he was alone in bed. "I am on alpha shift today." He rolled onto his stomach, the left side of his face touched exposed to the dry air. He was too hot again and Spock was trying to readjust the blankets around him._

" _Jesus, fucking, Christ Spock. I don't want any more covers. I'm on fire." He spoke into the pillow. A hand touched the nape of his neck, smoothing his mussed hair._

 _When the lights flashed again they were accompanied by an annoying buzz._ Clever little robot. Clever and thoughtful. _There was a PADD on the pillow beside him with Jim's forwarded orders from Starfleet Command clearly displayed. The girl could stay._ Hot damn.

**_Two, "All for a kid that hates me."_ **

_They threw her a going away party: big and loud with crew rotating in as their shifts began and ended. Someone had made a cake taller than the girl and someone else had organized for food of every variety: fresh fruit and vegetables, real bread and real meat. There were balloons and streamers and it was more like an old earth circus and a birthday party rolled into one, complete with an oversized table of going away gifts. It was a Goddamn surprise to him. His heart nearly stopped when the lights of the rec room switched on and half the crew jumped up to yell "Bon Voyage!"_

_The kid grinned so widely it made his face hurt in sympathy. Her mouth had dropped into a huge 'o' before she laughed magically. "Bon Voyage," she repeated loudly. The French-ness was lost but she managed to convey such unabashed happiness that it didn't matter. He muttered something about sending him to an early grave and they all laughed at him too._ The grumpy Doctor.

_She tugged and led him around to all the colorful decorations, touching hesitantly until she felt safe. She left him standing beside the cake and tore off catching hugs and smiles from various crew as she passed. And he couldn't imagine her not being here, her smiling and pointing to a million things a minute wanting to know everything about it all._

" _Your face was priceless, Bones. It was like you got stunned and didn't know which way to fall."_

" _Shut-up, Jim. You should have told me."_

_Kirk grinned at him now with genuine pleasure, "Call it a Bon Voyage/Bones needs to relax party. I just wanted you to have a good time." It was sweet really, Jim's shy confession said with such casualness._

" _Just another way for you to show off," he mumbled._

" _Hey, that hurts. I planned this whole party." McCoy raised an eyebrow, "I planned most," the other brow went up, "okay, I asked Spock to arrange it and I signed the forms," he admitted. "It was still my idea and all for a kid that hates me, Bones."_

_Leonard laughed, the lines around his mouth going taut. Jim sure as hell was good for a laugh. His face was sulky as if one little girl, in a universe full of beautiful women, not liking him was a true travesty. "You don't like her either," McCoy said through a grin._

_Kirk's pout become fiercer, it that were possible, his eyes wide in feigned innocence. "Not even a thank you for all my hard work."_

_The girl appeared beside him, peeking out from behind his legs. She was grinning up at him with teeth too big for her face._

_Jim winked at her. "Remember this when Command debriefs you. I'm not all bad."_

" _Jim," Leonard snapped. He shrugged and smiled easy as ever before sauntering off._

_It was much later when a fresh batch of crew were moving around the room that he saw Spock, holding a tea cup and sitting among some engineering people. The little girl was pressed against his side. The backs of their hands touched and he knew Spock could feel her in his mind. Did she talk to him there, more than just their names and repeating silly phrases? He envied and was grateful to Spock for being able to comfort her in a way that he couldn't. He looked easy with her, peaceful maybe._

_As he moved closer he saw her mouth was stained in purple icing and on the left side of Spock's uniform there was a smudge of it remaining. She was sucking the thumb of the other hand, the icing around the inside of her wrist. It wasn't just a human trait then. Joanna had, and he and Joce had always fought about it: her and her damn child psychology books._

_He took a seat next to Scotty and a drink from the table. He didn't know what the hell they were talking about but he was content to let the conversation pass him by. He watched Spock and the girl. He caught her gaze and smiled; they were both children in this instance; neither of them knew what the adults were saying. She moved at Spock's side and without breaking away from the conversation he adjusted her until her feet were touching the floor. She hopped from the chair towards McCoy, burying her face in his lap. He wiped her hands and face before pulling her into his lap._

_He sat with the girl on his hip just like he was the Goddamn mom and what if he never saw her again._

**_Three, "I find Angelina and Artemis to be acceptable."_ **

" _Some of these are awful."_

_Jim shrugged leaning across McCoy to look at the list. "These are only the ones that I thought had potential. I took about half off yesterday."_

" _There are twelve hundred here."_

" _You're welcome," he laughed._

" _We're not naming her Edwina," a snort, "or Emmaline. Lacey, really Jim, I know that's yours."_

" _It's cute."_

" _It's a type of material, not a person." He pinched the bridge of his nose. He'd been through them all and Jim had been though them all and Spock was partial to Ana. Jocelyn had named Jo and his only job had been to smile and love the little bundle in his arms. It was easy enough. But this little girl couldn't be sent off into the world without a name and case #548991 wasn't acceptable. "What's wrong with Susan?"_

" _It's too simple."_

" _Damn it Jim. She's not a pet. She has to live with this name for the rest of her life. I don't want her going around with some nine syllable, all consonant concoction." He turned to Spock, "anything new to add?"_

_Spock looked up from another PADD, more names. "I find Angelina and Artemis to be acceptable."_

" _Artemis as in the Roman Goddess of the hunt-Jesus Spock." Jim turned away with an eye roll. "Lacey's downright normal."_ Fucking children _. "Let's leave it to chance and drawn names from a hat."_

" _How many variations of Jamie are on that list," Leonard snapped, glaring at Jim._

" _-not enough-" He grinned._

" _-thirteen-"Spock said stiffly._

_He stood up moving from one end of his office to the other in short jerky steps. Maybe they shouldn't name her because it was arrogant and who gave them the right. They wouldn't see her again. She wasn't his._

" _Doctor, what is the first name that comes to mind when you think of her?"_

_He met Spock's gaze and for a moment his blue eyes twinkled. "Gabriella," he said quietly, firmly. The name seemed to hover between them. It wasn't on the list, and it wasn't an 'A' name. And thank God it was not a damn fabric._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been very slowly updating this. It was written over four years ago and at the time I couldn't conceive of an ending. Spock and McCoy are such a volatile couple and writing them is awkward and difficult. There will be one more chapter posted within the next month or two. I am working my way through a prologue that I am converting to an epilogue; it will be posted very soon after the last chapter. 
> 
> A big thanks to all of the commenters, followers, etc. I very much appreciate it =)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where are they going; where they have been; what lies between: many more kisses.

Leonard liked falling asleep next to Spock…sleeping on his stomach with Spock pressed against his side…being half asleep and growling at Spock to turn off the damn lights because he was trying to sleep, damn it…that when Spock got cold he tucked his hands between McCoy's thighs for warmth…that Spock preferred the left side of the bed because he liked the right…that the elf never left bed without telling him why…his cheek being touched each morning by long fingers and his hair being pushed back from his forehead…that Spock is the little spoon each night and the big one by morning…that he could grind back against Spock because he was horny and the Vulcan would press into him in return…that Spock didn't mind him talking in his sleep…that Spock insisted on two pillows for himself but never complained when he took one anyway…he liked sex with Spock even if it was damn complicated and sometimes he wanted to kill the robot but he couldn't because then he would be alone again.

He hated that Spock could quote a rule for every circumstance from here to Mississippi…that he took stupid risk on away missions then had the Goddamn nerve to say it was logical…that Spock still refused to get treatment when he got hurt even though McCoy practically ordered him…that every time they fought Spock never apologized…that sex with Spock was always this huge fucking internal battle because he always pictured the man bent over a chair or against a wall but when Spock offered he didn't want it anymore…he hated when Spock touched his mind because he was terrified of what the Vulcan would see in there and he couldn't for all the tea in china tell him that.

There was something about Spock but Jesus Mary and Joe Crocker he couldn't make his lips move to say the words, not even to himself, because yes, he was a coward. There was something about Spock.

 

Gabriella still didn't talk to him, not really but she sent drawings and whoever was taking care of her sent him updates, pictures sometimes. He sat in his office in the mornings looking through them, replying with his own recorded messages that made him feel young and needed. He didn't know about her new family and he suspected they weren't going to tell him anything either. He was happy anyway.

From the updates he received he knew she was happy too. She was in drawing classes and steadily the pictures were becoming more skilled; attached to every message was a short sentence or two directly from her. The language was bad but that was coming along as well. He expected her to disappear when she left the Enterprise and instead someone(s) had pulled enough strings to give him these small assurances that she was well. Bastards.

 

"Leonard?"

"What?" He was keeping them awake with his heavy sighs and restlessness.

He was on his side, back to the Vulcan on the very edge of the bed. He felt the distance between them pulling at the tentative peace of their night. Spock shifted behind him, the thick blankets around them muffling the sounds to quiet murmurs. Spock was within inches of him. He could feel the increased heat and he was already too warm, even in his own quarters, normally so chilly. But the elf was a furnace. Finally he rolled over and limbs knocked and he was almost sliding off the bed before Spock caught him but didn't pull them together.

"What?" he asked again, tone just as sharp. The viewport let starlight in but all he could see of Spock was a faint outline, made shapeless by the layers of blankets.

He reached over beneath the covers and it was several second before his fingers touched bare skin. "Let's do this instead," he said.

He turned and pressed forward to kiss Spock, his lips, his cheek, any part he could reasonably reach. He brought his body to the Vulcan's sharply because the second Spock was allowed to speak he knew this would be over.

Lord, McCoy should take more care with Spock because he was actually a person. Not Leonard's personal emotional confidant. But Spock must know. He touched Leonard's mind and felt his thoughts, his desires.

He curled a cool palm around Spock's neck and squinted in the darkness to see his lips. He wasn't going to stop, not unless Spock made him. There was a well of panic inside of him, a focused ache that told him he was so damn odd.

What did he want from Spock? Anger? Yes, that seemed right. He wanted the angriest elf on this side of the delta because then he could be angry too. He could be jealous and irate and that was the type of relationship he understood.

He rolled Spock under him and put their groins together. He was hard and Spock seemed willing. Those were good enough reasons to fuck. He got a hand between them and struggled to divest Spock through several layers of clothing. "Damn it. Spock, help me." But why should he?

He kissed him as soon as the words left his mouth. He couldn't let Spock break the spell: the spell of absurdity that was surely surrounding them, their complete inanity. Still, Spock lifted his hips and McCoy tugged the pyjama pants down, not far, only enough to stoke the pale green cock. Spock wasn't hard but not soft either and had Leonard been kinder in his approach, less driven not to talk, then maybe sex wouldn't have been this thing that was meant only as a distraction.

He settled his hands on either side of Spock's head and pressed his weight down, grinding hard and wanting it to last forever. Spock's hands peeled away his boxers so they were skin to skin. He could feel the sweat begin to bead at his temples and lower back. He felt old lying on top of Spock, old with no hope of regaining his youth.

He sat up straddling Spock’s thighs to look down at him. He saw a distorted outline, and could just recognize a cheek, the jaw line, a few buttons on his pyjamas. He moved a hand to touch the light trail of hair across Spock's chest. If he’d started this more gently…

McCoy's fingertips caressed firmly and if Spock could see his face then he would at least know that McCoy's mood had changed. He teased Spock's erection keeping the pressure steady, his hand evenly paced. When the lube was passed into his hand he stared at the tube with bemusement. Ten minutes ago when he hadn't wanted to talk; he also hadn't thought this far ahead and right now the choice seemed to be all his. He coated his fingers and only hesitated a moment before reaching behind him to circle his own hole.

This was one of those times where he didn't want to think. McCoy didn't want to have to consider and understand sex. He just didn't.

He pushed one finger past the tight ring of muscles and it was different than when Spock was prepping him. The Vulcan had a keen instinct for providing pleasure efficiently, for taking Leonard right to the edge and yanking him back with all the grace of a dancer.

He was more concerned with the main event than getting off on rimming himself. He added a second finger scissoring them and then opening them as far as he could stand. The fine line between his own impatience and his desire to be thoroughly stretched was starting to blur, to blend into  _good lord I want to come_  and  _I can't believe he hasn't shoved me face first into the pillows_.

The burn that marked Spock's first time inside of him, his first time since well before Joce, was a dull throb now.

He twisted his fingers brushing over his prostate. He jerked, surprised at his own pleasure. The sensations were different, less nuanced when he was touching himself. He couldn't help but bear down on his fingers and thrust his hips into the body beneath him. McCoy looked down at Spock's cock straining between his thighs and then to Spock's face. He could feel Spock's eyes on him, watching his every movement as if he were a damn peep show.

McCoy's body was bathed in starlight, his pale, aged form completely visible to the Vulcan. He braced a hand on Spock's chest to scissor his fingers from a different angle. He could get off like this, without Spock up his ass, without Spock at all if he really tried. He rocked into Spock's crotch and back on his own hand in a steady rhythm.

Spock’s hands were warm and they traced up his legs to his thighs. A finger circled his belly button, dipping inside to mimic the movement of his hand. Spock moved suddenly settling Leonard in his lap and drawing them together by his hips. He felt taken over by Spock's power and manipulated by his body's response. Spock could have given him any direction, moved him into any position. They fell apart and the two of them were left tangled together. In a sharp motion Leonard's hand was pulled away and Spock was thrusting forward.

There wasn't space between them. McCoy wasn't breathing because it was too quick, too intense. They were up in the air with nowhere to go but down, down so damn fast they were bound to leave something behind.  _Up in the atmosphere, up where the air is clear_ …when was the last time McCoy had had a clear head about anything? Spock didn't move and the burn went away and he didn't open his eyes. Move: the word ripped through his consciousness and hell he could swear he saw it bounce over to Spock's.

McCoy dropped just as Spock planted his heels and bucked up and what in heaven's name would they have done if they weren't fucking. It was such a struggle, damn it. They still hadn't found a dynamic that worked.

His fingers were slick with lube but he didn't think about that as he gripped Spock's shoulder. He didn't think about how unhygienic it was or Spock's certain revulsion. He locked his arms and rose up from Spock's lap and sank down slowly.

It was a cruel joke; his muscles were screaming for relief and lord the robot's patience never ran out. Up and down: Spock's eyes were endless pools, pupils and iris indistinguishable. He could watch Spock all day when he wasn't acting like an unemotional computer, when he was unrestrained and the light of the cosmos was reflecting off of him.

He could feel Spock's consciousness. Between them was a valley, each of them on the peaks. If he stretched just an inch he could touch the Vulcan, feel the enveloping warmth, but he would not cross that expanse again. They could fuck and argue and almost maybe be a couple but … _Lupi pilum mutat, non mentem._ They’re probably too damn old to change.

Leonard's slick fingers wound their way up Spock's neck and briefly touched the tip of a pointed ear before gripping his thick dark hair. He pulled their mouths together in a rough gesture and it wasn't a kiss. Kisses had lips meeting lips and pleasure. They had teeth clashing so hard he was feeling it at the base of his skull. They had a battle of wills played out through their mouths. The upper hand was always just out of reach for McCoy. It burned and drove him.

He rotated his hips, back and forth, up and down sharply. When Spock actually fucking growled he knew it was working; he was winning. He could make Spock lose control, if only for an instant. He dropped a hand between them, swiping his thumb across the head of his dick.

He was wound up tight and for Christ's sake would Spock just snap him already? McCoy made a loose fist and went for gold; his whole body was acting like a starship going from thrusters to warp too fast. He moved his hips wildly. Below him the robot let him set the pace. Which couldn't be and wasn't a good idea in a thousand years. He wanted to come and then collapse without Spock making a production out of it.

He pushed his face into Spock's shoulder and let the elf take over pumping his dick. Their rhythm steadied and McCoy set to work sucking a bruise into Spock's neck. Would his collar cover the mark? It had before. Did he want to possess the man or was it something more sinister.

The hands on his hips tightened because damn it all Spock couldn't help that he was a touch telepath. Hell, Leonard was probably egging him on, driving him to new heights of irrationality.

If he wasn't careful Spock would break him and then what? In a thousand pieces without a doctor: he came then. He came thinking about being broken by Spock and being washed away in Vulcan stoicism. Everything clenched- McCoy's ass, Spock's hands, his jaw, and his thighs. He was boneless in Spock's arms, too sated to object when Spock continued to move him up and down.

Leonard didn't have any more coherent thoughts. He had instinct and a nagging suspicion that it wasn't over yet. Not just sex, because of course that wasn't over. Spock was still hard inside of him, still moving in and out of McCoy at a controlled speed. A voice in his head, his own he hoped, told him to gather his strength. He shoved it away and grabbed one of the hands on his hips, twisting their fingers together. He willed Spock to come. He was sleepy now and his legs were cramping.

McCoy hadn't been willing to concede anything to Spock until he was, until he was stretching that one flimsy inch and allowing their minds to collide with each other. Leonard gasped into Spock's shoulder. Washing over him in neat waves was pure pleasure, untainted, and visibly shining within their minds.

There is a summer storm in their minds and as the first jagged pulse of lightening crosses the sky Spock comes. He lies on the grass as the rain falls in sheets. Six feet up, Spock looks down at him, eyebrows in the air and hands behind his back. It never rains in space, he shouts through the storm. He tugs on the man's pant leg until Spock stretches out beside him. Real and imaginary cross paths and never unwind. I don't want you here, he shouts but his voice is hollow, too loud, in the absence of thunder and heavy rains.

Spock’s lips do not move when he speaks. You are afraid of what I will discover.

Of course, he smiles. The rain hits them in gentle breezes and damn if he doesn't want to stay here forever. He shivers and closes his eyes on the black clouds. It's like Georgia he thinks. It's like home.

 

Sleep was a kind way to disengage minds. McCoy felt it as a discrete fading of their connection and if he was drowsy before, he was exhausted now. His limbs were heavy and he fell back on the bed with all the finesses of dead weight. He let Spock pass a damp cloth over him and tuck the blankets back around them.

“Leonard,” Spock said.

“What?” He still didn’t think he wanted to have this conversation but he felt mellow and he doesn’t think there’s a damn thing he could say to scare Spock away.

“Is this what you want?”

McCoy sighed. Oh lord, they were past that now. He was just as bad at giving things up as he was at trying anything new.

Spock shifted beside him, propped himself up on one elbow and looked at McCoy like he was a fresh faced cadet. “I trust you will tell me otherwise,” he said.

“You overgrown green computer.”

“How original, Leonard.”

He rolled over and kissed Spock because he knew that letting the hobgoblin talk was a stupid idea. "Goddamn it, Spock." He grunted when they broke apart. "Just go to sleep."

Spock reached out and soothed the lines around his mouth and forehead. McCoy would have swatted his hand away because he’s not a child, but sleep was catching up to him fast. Spock would outlive him though and he would have to use his objections sparingly or he would end up spending more than a few shore leaves at some kind of science conference.

“Sleep well, Leonard.”

* * *

_His fist hit the cool metal. That he cared so deeply and could be hurt so easily shouldn't have shocked him. But, good Lord he was surprised, caught completely off guard by everything. When he pulled his palm back and struck the wall again the slapping sound was accompanied by a sick pop in his wrist. Good, he thought instantly. This real, shooting pain was better than thinking about how he'd royally fucked up._

_He set the bone quickly and watched the machine whirl and beep. His heart rate was high, his blood pressure too. Purposefully and stupidly he didn't take anything for the pain. His wrist throbbed in time with his pounding head._

 

_Spock noticed. His cool dark eyes settled on McCoy's with a look of displeasure, maybe disappointment. He had the Goddamn urge to stick out his tongue. And then Jim nudged him and he flinched and said, "Damn it, Jim," too loudly._

_How he hurt his wrist didn't matter. Certainly not to Jim who joked that it had to be a sex injury because honestly did the kid know any other kind? The story spread around so fast he didn't even care about trying to shake it. He did his usual huff, puff but it was damn hard to say 'no I wasn't fucking. That's not right at all. I was pissed at my boyfriendvulcanspockwhatever and threw a hissy fit. Yes, that sounds so much better.'_

 

_McCoy should have known better. Spock didn't just go away, not when McCoy was angry, not ever. One rejection wasn't enough for the computer. Leonard's irritation and irrationality never got him anywhere but within the Vulcan's embrace. When Spock appeared in his office the next morning he wasn't surprised. They were so predictable right down to Spock's raised eyebrow and McCoy's quick-temper._

" _You did not eat breakfast this morning."_

" _Spock," he began and stopped. What did he want to say? Don't keep tabs on me, sprang to mind. Instead, "I had reports to fill out."_

_The elf nodded. "Very well, Doctor." Was it going to be that easy? They could just get back to their complicated/simple routine without ever mentioning that damn straight McCoy was still mad._

_Spock sat in his place on the couch, PADD in his lap. He said nothing to McCoy but he never did. They could sit quietly for hours, usually side-by-side, and need no more communication than the touch of each other. Somehow the two of them had moved into an area of grey, the edges unattainable and dark._

_With a sigh McCoy stood and made his way towards the Vulcan. He didn't wait for Spock to acknowledge him before he sat. "You don't take hints well," he said._

" _You are still angry?"_

" _Yeah, Spock, I am. I get damn tired of jumping when you say. If I have to talk then so do you."_

_They looked at each other; Spock's gaze was inquisitive, open. "I was under the impression we had come to an understanding. Have I misunderstood?"_

_He shrugged. He couldn't say he felt tossed aside, like suddenly everything wasn't so black and white. Vulcan or human? He just didn't want to talk about the sharp knot in his stomach._

" _Please let me examine your wrist." Spock's hand hovered over his exposed skin, waiting and he was tempted to say no. McCoy nodded. It was healed now with only the slightest twinge when he moved it oddly. His touch was soft as he pressed on the prominent bone. He flinched when the pressure increased letting out an audible hiss of air sucked through his teeth. "This was careless."_

" _It got your attention." That was wrong, not what he wanted to say because he sounded weak and wanting._

" _I hope that was not your intention." Spock didn't meet his eyes for a moment, instead looking at his own hand cupping McCoy's wrist. He looked lost and truly unsure of what exactly their situation was._ _"I hope that was not your intention, Doctor.” Spock spoke slowly, choosing each work precisely from his personal dictionary. “You have my attention and…I find your jealousy callous and unfounded."_

_"I misspoke,” Leonard said._

" _You did not."_

_"It's not unfounded Spock. Damn it you don't get to-"_

" _What, Doctor? I have been inside of your mind. I do know you." His voice was a hard line drawn in red ink._

" _I don't want this."_

" _Me?"_

_Leonard snorted, his eyes slamming shut. "Don't fucking lead me, Spock. This, as in this argument, this fucking…this." He shook his head._

_"Nor do I."_

" _You brought it up, Jesus. I was perfectly willing and able to manage. Why do you do this? Why don't I win even when I do everything right?"_

_But that was the wrong question because it wasn't a matter of doing things right. It had everything to do with making compromises, with giving to Spock his affection without snatching anything for himself. It wasn't fair, not a fair parameter in which to place the two of them._

" _Your wrist was broken. Please explain to me how that is the appropriate management?"_

" _I don't fucking have to. That's the beauty of being a Goddamn adult."_

_They were still sitting close. McCoy was yelling right in the robot's face, their hands still clasped. One of Spock's fingers settled across his knuckles. "Don't you dare," he said sharply. He did not pull his hand away though._

_Spock's eyes were nearly startled as if he had not been aware of his own movements. "I apologize."_

_"My God, Spock, I never have to say a damn thing because you always know. All you have to do is touch." He looked down at their hands and thought loudly about opening an airlock and being sucked out into space._

_If Spock felt anything he didn't show it. He quietly removed his hands from Leonard's raising an eyebrow. "My intention is not to outwit you."_

_"But it certainly makes it easier."_

_"I do not deny that my telepathy is helpful, Doctor."_

_"It's cheating, Spock." He sounded like a child. He looked like a child, eyes wide and all pompous indignation._

_"You would prefer me to take no interest in your emotions?"_

_"I'd prefer not to be your human experiment."_

_Spock's eyes narrowed for a moment and Leonard thought he just might be seeing Vulcan anger. Leonard’s clumsy in his affection and a downright disaster in his jealousy. "Then it is fortunate that you are not."_

_He shook his head and stood with his back to the robot. "Wouldn't it be simpler if you could play both parts of a relationship?"_

_That seemed to shift them back onto even ground. Spock straightened, his eyes looking tired. "Do not be dramatic, Doctor. All disagreements require time and effort but they can be resolved."_

" _With logic, yes, I know"_

" _Or without," he said patiently._

" _Not without, Spock. There's never a without with you. How many times have I tried and how many times have you brushed it aside because it doesn't quite fit?" He leaned a hip on the corner of his desk. His hair was getting long. If he wanted to he could almost hide his eyes with his bangs. He could hide from Spock._

_"My shift's starting," he said. He was careful to keep everything out of his voice. If he let the anger and sadness bleed together he just might say something stupid._

 

**"Don't you love farce?**

**My fault I fear."**

_For three days McCoy ignored Spock. Problems couldn't be willed away and lord knew theirs were just as abundant as the Grand Canyon was wide._

_For six more days Leonard thought about how damn arrogant Spock was. He wanted to lash out or be kissed. Both made him furious and when they crossed paths his anger was a white-hot flare._

_For two days Spock ignored him._

_On the twelfth, he gripped Leonard's elbow, hard, on the bridge and made up an excuse to speak with him alone. They took the turbo lift together and inside Spock pressed himself along McCoy's body and spoke directly into his ear. One word: "enough."_

_The thirteenth and fourteenth: McCoy spent two nights on a ball of dirt trying to convince the natives that dermal regenerators weren't the devil's tools. He returned to the ship with blood staining his uniform and a nasty gash across his chest. Spock and Jim were waiting for him in the transporter room; he hadn’t even fully materialized out of the damn thing before Jim was clutching his shoulders tightly, telling him to “be careful, I need you, Bones.”_

_Spock stood three immense steps back from them. His face was pale, his eyebrows drawn together._

**"I thought you'd want what I want.**

**Sorry, my dear."**

 

_He knew the code to Spock's quarters but he didn't need to use it. The doors slide open for him as if he belonged there. The lights were mid level and Spock sat at his desk, PADDs surrounding him. "Good evening, Doctor."_

" _Can we talk?" He was still standing in the doorway, half in, half out: ready to bolt like a rabbit when he smelled a fox._

" _If you wish. I would prefer to do so in private." He tilted his head towards the door, at Leonard's shadow framed by the ship beyond._

_They were strangers again. "Yeah, sure." Jesus Christ, they were just officers on a starship like they had never touched or kissed. He sat on the edge of Spock's desk. They were within an arm's length of each other, able to brush fingertips if they had wanted. He sighed. "Why can't you just say I upset you?"_

_Purposefully, Spock sat back in his chair, folded his hands on the desk and met his eyes. "Are you here to apologize?"_

" _For what? I told you the truth and it pissed you off."_

" _Please leave, Doctor."_

_He groaned. "Just fucking talk to me." Spock's chin rose sharply. It was different looking down on him. He was still small; he was a tiny human, and he felt afraid, damn it. Had he pushed so hard that Spock couldn't bounce back? It felt like he was thin and absolutely transparent._

" _Please Spock."_

" _What is it Doctor?" His tone was hollowed, so bland that McCoy could do nothing but stare. "How am I to know what you are feeling if you do not tell me, if I cannot touch you? How am I to interpret your distance and silence towards me?"_

" _It's too damn hard, that's what you should think."_

" _This is what you have come to tell me?"_

_He glared because who the hell was Spock to scold him. He had a right to be overwhelmed, to be discouraged and angry. "No, I came to talk to you. I want to apologize. The least you can do is be quiet and listen to me."_

" _Very well, I am waiting."_

_He thought they were both just stubborn enough to dance around each other forever. "Spock-"_

" _Doctor-"_

" _Shut up. I want to say this and then you can kick me out." He took a deep breath and gave the elf a hard look._

 _"Our problem isn't that I'm too emotional or that you're not emotional enough. We just can't find any middle ground. It's us and this ship and_ us _." McCoy closed his eyes. He was tired and ready to slam his head against a desk._

_Spock stood moving away several steps. "You- Leonard, I cannot force you to act in an adult manner but-"_

" _I left you," he said, "and I don't trust you."_

" _Yes." Spock did not turn around._

_McCoy could only watch the lines of his shoulders tighten, the starlight making him a silhouette against the porthole. "You don't come with a script for God's sake. I don't know how to talk to you."_

" _That is not an excuse. Do you think I find it any less challenging to speak with you?"_

" _I'm talking to you now." He said helplessly._

" _Indeed, and we have come to this."_

" _My- my feelings belong to me, Spock, valid or not."_

" _Yes, Doctor. I am not debating your humanity." Spock moved his arm to trace the outline of the view port. "Perhaps you can tell me the things that I may do."_

" _Huh?"_

" _We speak frequently of the things which I may not do and the list is ever growing. Weeks ago you spoke of winning; it seems to me that I am the one accruing losses."_

" _Bullshit," McCoy snapped. "You pull back because it's easier than talking to me. My list of don'ts is just as long as yours, Spock. Damn it; don't throw your logic at me. It's not a shield and it doesn't pass for real human interaction."_

" _Do not lecture me on the merit of emotion, Leonard. It does not have to be displayed to be understood."_

_He pressed his lips together, disgruntled. "Could have fooled me. Hell, it kills you that I can express everything. That I can lash out in anger and brush off my impracticality."_

_He pulled a face, eyebrows drawn together and now his hair really was too long because it did cover his eyes. He was bewildered by his need and want for comfort from Spock, who left him raw and embittered. But he wanted and damn it he didn’t have the guts to reach out and take the Vulcan._

_He didn't want a scene or even words. He wanted Spock to know instinctively and that was the one thing that Spock wouldn't give. He assumed that Spock meant for him to learn the value of honesty. But his honesty was dangerous and mean spirited._

_McCoy's voice fell flat, not quite in embarrassment. "You have to talk to me too. I don't know when you're angry or hurt. I can guess but I don't want to, damn it. I'm not your Goddamn therapist."_

" _But am I yours?"_

_"What? Jesus, no." Their backs were to each other now and at that moment McCoy would have given anything to take it all back. If he could do it again he would not have let him go. "I keep telling you that I don't need to be coddled."_

" _You are self-destructive."_

_"Because I have a measurable emotional range? Jesus, Spock."_

_He heard Spock turn away from the port and saw him look over his shoulder. The look the hobgoblin gave him was not kind. It was full of things that Spock would not say because he was too damn polite. He was so damn superior to humans. "Is that all, Doctor?"_

_"No." Quietly, "Just tell me what to say. Anything but this fucking 'holier than thou because I have control' shit."_

_Spock touched his temple lightly and if McCoy hadn't know better he would have thought the Vulcan was annoyed. “I find myself unaccustomed to such intense scrutiny."_

_"Oh, for the love of God. I'm not Jim. When I talk to you I don't want to hear about rules." He slammed a PADD on the desk and watched it bounce to the floor. "How do you fucking feel, Spock?"_

" _I do not wish to discuss the Captain."_

_"Do you tell him how you feel?" Leonard snarled. Suddenly he didn't care about making peace. He wanted to cut deeply and leave a lasting impression._

_"What Jim and I discuss has no bearing-"_

" _Really, Spock? I wouldn't've guessed."_

" _Leonard-"_

_He pressed on shouting over Spock because it was against Vulcan rules to yell. He imagines himself as a vicious animal, without control and long ago escaping his owner. “You don’t trust me either Spock. I’m good enough when Jim isn’t around. I’m handy, right.” Spock tried again to interrupt him, but Leonard was on a roll._

" _Doctor McCoy." It was said so abruptly and with such quiet force that Leonard jumped. He should leave now, quickly. Whatever intentions he had were shot to hell in a hand basket._

_He shuffled his feet, his scoffed boots horribly out of place. Christ, he dragged a hand over his face. "I'm sorry, Spock. My God, I would take it back if I could."_

" _I know."_

_He looked up, shocked. "Do you? Because I feel like a holovid on repeat."_

_"I know that you care deeply for me."_

_Now was the time to go quietly because he was off the hook and Spock had a greater capacity for forgiveness. "Aren't you sick of me?" He asked._

_Spock lifted an eyebrow. “Wary, perhaps. It is the nature of any relationship to hurt your partner."_

" _Who says, Spock? Where can I read about relationships and get all the damn answers?" He dropped his head. "How many more times can I except to talk to your back?"_

_"You wish me to estimate the number of disagreements we will have?"_

_McCoy smiled despite himself. "Good lord, no." He felt Spock behind him, solid and just out of reach. He stretched his hand back and prayed that he didn't pull away. Their fingers laced and it was new again. "I can be human enough for the both of us."_

_He could hear the smirk in the elf's voice when he spoke. "I do not possess enough logic to reconcile your capriciousness." Thank God._

 

_It was far easier for Leonard to tug Spock to him than to use his words. Lord knew they couldn't even agree on the color of the sky sometimes. But Leonard took a step forward and Spock met him. So, they kissed for the first time in two weeks and McCoy's ass hit the edge of the desk. He thought about control and who had the right to take it while he pulled at their clothes. He came to Spock on his knees but did that mean he had to stay there? Jesus, he couldn't even apologize properly._

_Naked they stood quietly for a moment, two very different men joined by uncertainty and desire._

" _Now what?"_

" _Doctor?” Now, it was just a matter of details. There were always so many damn details attached to sex. And damn it he almost expected Spock to have a checklist that gave them step-by-step instructions._

_He pushed at Spock's left hip so that he wasn't trapped against the desk. His hand touched the jutting bone, moving up the ridge and then down following the curve to the black hair around his groin._

_Spock moved away from him. It was done carefully and the elf kept eye contact as if he knew McCoy would actually run if he felt the least bit rejected. When Spock gestured towards the bathroom McCoy trailed behind him. They looked comical; no, they looked damn stupid: naked and cocks bouncing. Spock with his sharp eyebrows and Leonard with his puppy dog eyes._

_Spock had a tube of non medical lubricant and that made McCoy laugh. It wasn't scented or extraordinary in any way but he pictured Spock jerking off and_ that _was extraordinary._

_He didn't meet Spock's eyes when he took the tube from him and coated his fingers. Leonard wasn't going to ask to fuck Spock. It was to their credit that Spock would not have objected and McCoy would have taken no for an answer._

_Spock pressed his hands to the sink's rim for support as McCoy buried his face against his shoulder blades. He couldn't watch. Two fingers pushed past the tight ring of muscles surrounding the elf's entrance, stretching, exploring._

_This isn't what Leonard had planned. He wasn't in charge. He was taking huge gulps of air, nearly suffocating, but he refused to look up into the mirror. In his panic he fell back on medicine, his medical training._

_He knew where a Vulcan's prostate was. He knew what got them off because Spock's patience was endless with him. McCoy's was fragmented and it took everything he had to sting it together. His fingers pressed the gland lightly and then more firmly. Spock was rigid beneath him; the only response was a slight tremble in his legs and McCoy wrapped an arm around his waist pulling the Vulcan into his fingers. What would happen if Spock didn't push and McCoy didn't have a catalyst?_

_He touched Spock's wrist, hoping for direction, an answer to his unwilling question. But Spock refused him kindly. He held Leonard's arm against his waist and laced their fingers together. McCoy added another finger but only pumped twice. Fine, he thought, don't fucking talk to me. His first push inside of Spock was not gentle and still he kept his head down. When McCoy moved they were two bodies, never in cadence, but yes perfectly suited to each other. He was absolutely surrounded and consumed by Spock. He was lost in moving his hips and keeping Spock upright.._

_His hands hurt because Spock wouldn't let go. As a physician he knew human bones were less dense than Vulcan and he thought that Spock knew too. He thought that Spock knew he was fragile. Spock's palm rubbed, no, ground against Leonard's exposed knuckles. He would have carpet burn without the damn carpet._   _He held one of the elf's hands down on the sink under his own because if neither of them had a grip they really would fall._

 _Did sex keep score? Surely Spock would have to be winning even in this. He was being far more generous, far more gracious with his body. Leonard in comparison seemed wild as his hips snapped with no rhythm at all. He sucked at a spot on the elf's neck and decided to give a little more than he was taking._   _He weaved his fingers between Spock's stroking up and down. If felt soft to him, lame almost but Spock wobbled under him and he was elated. Christ it was worth the effort to feel Spock bulk, to know that he was doing a damn good job._

_Leonard's thrust were getting shallower, his breath ragged puffs on Spock's skin. When he dropped his arm to knead Spock's balls the Vulcan's hand followed, twisting and pulling at McCoy's fingers. They were a freak show of limbs and heat and cocks. He didn't ask but Spock spread his legs wider, hitching one knee over the counter’s edge. McCoy sank deeper into the hot body and Spock pulled fiercely at his hands._

_He was coming inside of Spock even as he thought his hands were broken. He looked up into the mirror and watched their hands at Spock's crotch. He watched their bodies sway to and away from the glass. He pressed as deeply as possible and willed the elf to fall over the edge with him. But McCoy was graceless and clumsy and Spock never was._

_He was unprepared to meet Spock's gaze. They were wide and clear and then the elf was coming. Leonard felt his body jolt and his mind burst open to McCoy's. He felt a swell of pleasure that wasn't his own but Spock's._

_For an instant he was Spock; he was inside of himself; dick softening, body cold because he was human. His pleasure was heightened because a pair of hands were intertwined with his own and when he looked into the mirror he saw a mess of light brown hair. That was supposed to be him and for a moment Leonard was Spock._

_Spock pulled his mind away from McCoy's slowly but the bliss remained. He turned his head toward Leonard bringing his hand up from the sink to touch the man's hair. They still looked goddamn idiotic, mismatched beyond reconciliation. Who's in charge, Leonard wanted to ask because it sure as hell wasn't him._

 


End file.
